TWO-LEGS 
 
 CARL EWALD
 
 TWO-LEGS
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 BY 
 CARL EWALD 
 
 AUTHOR OF "MY LITTLE BOY" 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH 
 
 BY 
 ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 NEW YORK ::::::: 1906
 
 Copyright, 1906, by Charles Scribner's Sont 
 Sole Authorized Translation 
 
 Published, September, 1906 
 
 The Trow Press, New York
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I THE OLD ANIMALS 1 
 
 II MRS. TWO-LEGS HAS A SON ... 22 
 
 in BLOOD! 33 
 
 IV TIME PASSES 51 
 
 V TWO-LEGS ENLARGES HIS POSSESSIONS 64 
 
 VI TWO-LEGS WANDERS 73 
 
 VII TWO-LEGS SOWS 84 
 
 VIII TWO-LEGS ENJOYS LIFE .... 99 
 
 IX THE OLD ANIMALS TAKE COUNSEL . 106 
 
 X THE LION 123 
 
 XI MANY YEARS AFTER . 136
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS 
 
 IT was once upon a time, many, 
 many years ago. 
 
 And it was in the warm lands, where 
 the sun shines stronger than here 
 and the rain falls closer and all 
 animals and all plants thrive better, 
 because the winter does not stunt 
 their growth. 
 
 The forest was full of life and noise. 
 
 The flies buzzed, the sparrow ate 
 the flies and the hawk ate the spar- 
 row. The bees crept into the flowers 
 in search of honey, the lion roared 
 1
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 and the birds sang, the brook rippled 
 and the grass grew. The trees stood 
 and rustled, while their roots sucked 
 saps from the earth. The flowers were 
 radiant and fragrant. 
 
 Suddenly it became wonderfully 
 stiU. 
 
 It was as though all held their 
 breaths at once and listened and 
 stared. The rustling of the trees 
 ceased. The violet woke from her 
 dreams and looked up in wonder. The 
 lion raised his head and stood with 
 one paw uplifted. The stag stopped 
 grazing, the eagle rested high in the 
 air on his wings, the little mouse ran 
 out of his hole and pricked up his ears. 
 
 There came two through the forest 
 who were different from the others, 
 two whom no one had ever seen be- 
 fore. 
 
 2
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS 
 
 They walked erect. Their foreheads 
 were high, their eyes steady. They 
 went hand in hand and looked 
 around them as though they did not 
 know where they were. 
 
 "Who, in the name of wonder, are 
 these?" asked the lion. 
 
 "They are animals," said the stag. 
 "They can walk. But how oddly 
 they do it! Why don't they leap on 
 all fours, seeing that they have four 
 legs? Then they would get along 
 much faster." 
 
 "Oh," said the snake, "I have no 
 legs at all; and it seems to me I get 
 along pretty fast." 
 
 "I don't believe they are animals," 
 said the nightingale. "They have no 
 feathers and no hair, except that bit 
 on their heads." 
 
 "Scales would do quite as well," 
 3
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 said the pike, popping his head out 
 of the river. 
 
 "Some of us have to manage with 
 our bare skin," said the earth-worm, 
 quietly. 
 
 "They have no tails," said the 
 mouse. "Never in their lives have 
 they been animals!" 
 
 "I have no tail," said the toad. 
 "And nobody can deny that I am an 
 animal." 
 
 "Look!" said the lion. "Just look! 
 One of them is taking up a stone in 
 his fore-paws: I couldn't do that." 
 
 "But I could," said the orang- 
 outang. "There's nothing in that. 
 For the rest, I can satisfy your curi- 
 osity. Those two, in point of fact, 
 are animals. They are husband and 
 wife, their name is Two-Legs and 
 they are distant relations of my own." 
 4
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS 
 
 "Oh, really?" said the lion. "Then 
 how is it they have no fur?" 
 
 "I daresay they've pawned it," said 
 the orang-outang. 
 
 "Why don't you go and talk to 
 them?" asked the lion. 
 
 "I don't know them," replied the 
 orang-outang. "And I am not at all 
 anxious to have anything to do with 
 them. I have only heard of them. 
 You must know, they are a sort of 
 very inferior, second-rate ape. I shall 
 be pleased to hand them an orange 
 now and again, but I won't under- 
 take the smallest responsibility for 
 them." 
 
 "They look very nice," said the lion. 
 "I shouldn't mind trying what they 
 taste like." 
 
 "Pray do, for all that I care," said 
 the orang-outang. "They will never 
 5
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 be a credit to the family and, sooner 
 or later, they will come to a bad end." 
 
 The lion went towards them, as 
 they came, but, when he stood before 
 them, he suddenly lost courage. He 
 could not understand this himself, 
 for there was not a thing else in the 
 forest that he feared. But the two 
 new animals had such strange eyes 
 and walked the earth so fearlessly 
 that he thought they must possess 
 some mysterious power which he 
 could not perceive. There was no- 
 thing particular about their teeth ; and 
 their claws were not worth speaking 
 of. But something about them there 
 must be. 
 
 And so he hung his head and got 
 out of their way. 
 
 "Why didn't you eat them? " asked 
 the lioness 
 
 6
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS 
 
 "I was not hungry," he answered. 
 
 He lay down to rest in the high 
 grass and did as though he were no 
 longer thinking of them. The other 
 animals did the same, for he was 
 their chief. But none of them meant 
 it. They were all taken up with the 
 new animals. 
 
 Meanwhile, Two-Legs and his wife 
 walked on; and the farther they 
 walked the more they wondered at 
 the splendour of the world. They had 
 no suspicion of the attention which 
 they attracted and they did not see 
 that all the animals were stealthily 
 following in their tracks. Wherever 
 they came, the trees put their tops 
 together and whispered, the birds 
 flew in the air above their heads and 
 astonished eyes stared at them from 
 every bush. 
 
 7
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 "We will live here," said Two-Legs 
 and pointed to a wonderful little 
 meadow, where the river flowed be- 
 tween flowers and grass. 
 
 "No, here!" cried his wife and ran 
 into the adjoining wood, where the 
 trees dispensed a deep shade and the 
 moss was thick and soft. 
 
 "How strange their voices sound," 
 said the nightingale. "They have 
 more notes than I." 
 
 "If they were not so big, I should 
 advise them to build a nest beside 
 me in the rushes," said the reed- 
 warbler. 
 
 The two new animals walked on 
 and constantly found a place which 
 was prettier than that which they 
 had last seen; and they could not 
 make up their minds to stay. Then 
 they met the dog, who was limping 
 s
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS 
 
 badly, as he had cut his foot on a 
 sharp stone. He tried to run away 
 from them, but could not. Mrs. Two- 
 Legs took hold of him and looked 
 at the injured foot. 
 
 "I'll help you, you poor fellow," 
 she said. "Wait a minute. I hurt my 
 own foot the other day and healed it 
 with leaves." 
 
 The dog saw that she meant well 
 by him. He waited patiently while 
 she ran into the copsewood for 
 leaves. Two-Legs patted him on the 
 back and talked kindly to him. Then 
 she came back with the leaves, put 
 them on his foot and bound a tendril 
 round them. 
 
 "Run away, now," she said. "To- 
 morrow you'll be well again." 
 
 They went on, but the dog stood 
 looking after them and wagging his 
 9
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 tail. The other animals came out of 
 the bushes and copses. 
 
 "You've been talking to the stran- 
 gers. What did they say? What are 
 they like?" they all asked in chorus. 
 
 "They are better than the other ani- 
 mals in the forest," replied the dog. 
 "They have healed my foot and 
 patted my skin. I shall never forget 
 it." 
 
 "They have healed the dog's foot. 
 . . . They have patted the dog's 
 skin. . . ." 
 
 It ran from mouth to mouth 
 through the forest. The trees whis- 
 pered it to one another, the flowers 
 sighed and nodded, the lizards ran 
 round with the story and the nightin- 
 gale set it to music. The new animals 
 went on and thought no more of the 
 dog. 
 
 10
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS 
 
 At last, however, they were so tired 
 that they sat down. They stooped 
 over the spring and drank and 
 laughed at their own image in the 
 water. They plucked juicy fruits 
 from the trees and ate them. When 
 the sun went down, they lay down to 
 rest in the grass and went to sleep 
 with their arms about each other's 
 neck. A little way off, the dog, who 
 had followed in their footsteps, lay 
 with his head on his paws, watching 
 them. 
 
 The round full moon shone straight 
 down upon them. She also shone in 
 the big face of the ox, who stood 
 looking at them. 
 
 "Boo!" said the ox. 
 
 "Bo!" said the moon. "What are 
 you staring at?" 
 
 "I'm looking at those two who are 
 11
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 lying sleeping there," said the ox. 
 "Do you know them?" 
 
 "I believe something of the kind 
 used to crawl about my surface years 
 and years ago," replied the moon. 
 "But I'm not sure. My memory has 
 become very bad in the last hundred 
 thousand years or so. It is quite as 
 much as I can do to concentrate 
 my thoughts upon my celestial 
 course." 
 
 "Yes, thinking is not my strong 
 point either," said the ox. "But I am 
 frightened." 
 
 "Of those two over there?" asked 
 the moon. 
 
 "I don't know why," said the ox, 
 "but I can't bear them." 
 
 "Then trample them to death!" 
 cried the moon. 
 
 "I dare not," said the ox. "Not by 
 12
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS 
 
 myself. But perhaps I can persuade 
 some one to help me." 
 
 "That's your look-out," said the 
 moon. "It's all one to me." 
 
 And she sailed on. But the ox stood 
 and chewed the cud and thought and 
 got no further. 
 
 "Are you asleep?" asked the sheep, 
 sticking out her long face beside the 
 ox. 
 
 And suddenly the whole meadow 
 came to life. 
 
 All the animals were there who had 
 followed the two on their walk. 
 There were both those who sleep by 
 day and hunt at night and those who 
 do their work while the sun shines. 
 None of them was now thinking of 
 working or resting. None thought of 
 hurting the others. The lion and the 
 stag, the wolf and the sheep, the cat 
 13
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 and the mouse and the horse and the 
 ox and many others stood side by 
 side on the grass. The eagle sat in a 
 tree-top, surrounded by all the little 
 birds of the forest. The orang-outang 
 sat on one of the bottom branches eat- 
 ing an orange. The hen stood on a 
 mound beside the fox, the duck and 
 the goose lay in the brook and stuck 
 out their necks. 
 
 "Now that we are all here together, 
 let us discuss the matter," said the 
 lion. 
 
 "Have you had enough to eat?" 
 asked the ox. 
 
 "Quite," answered the lion. "To- 
 night we shall keep the peace and be 
 friends." 
 
 "Then I move that we forthwith 
 and without more ado kill those two 
 strange animals," said the ox. 
 
 14
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS 
 
 "What in the wide world is the mat- 
 ter with you?" asked the lion. "Gen- 
 erally you're such a peaceful fellow, 
 grazing, attending to your business 
 and not hurting a living thing. What 
 makes you so bloodthirsty all of a 
 sudden?" 
 
 "I can't account for it," said the 
 ox. "But I have a decided conviction 
 that we ought to kill them with the 
 least possible delay. They bring mis- 
 fortune. They are evil. If you don't 
 follow my advice, rely upon it, one 
 day you will all regret it." 
 
 "I agree with the ox," cried the 
 horse. "Bite them to death! Kick 
 them to pieces! And the sooner the 
 better!" 
 
 "Kill them, kill them!" cried the 
 sheep, the goat and the stag, with one 
 voice. 
 
 15
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 'Yes, do, do!" screamed the duck, 
 the goose and the hen. 
 
 "I have never heard anything like 
 this in my life," said the lion, look- 
 ing round in surprise at the crowd. 
 "It's just the most peaceable and 
 cowardly animals in the forest that 
 want to take the strangers' lives. 
 What have they done to you? What 
 are you afraid of?" 
 
 "I can't tell you any more than the 
 ox can," said the horse. "But I feel 
 that they are dangerous. I have such 
 pains in my loins and legs." 
 
 "When I think of those two, I feel 
 as if I were being skinned," said the 
 ox. "I feel teeth biting into my flesh." 
 
 "I feel something pulling at my 
 udders," said the cow. 
 
 "I feel cold, as if all my wool were 
 shorn off," said the sheep. 
 
 16
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS 
 
 "I have a feeling as if I were being 
 roasted before the fire and eaten," 
 said the goose. 
 
 "So have I! So have II" screamed 
 the duck and the hen. 
 
 "This is most remarkable," said the 
 lion. "I have never heard anything 
 like it and I can't understand your 
 feelings. What can these strangers 
 do to you? They go about naked 
 among us, eat an apple and an or- 
 ange and don't do the least harm. 
 They go on two poor legs, whereas 
 you have four, so that you can run 
 away from them anyhow. You have 
 horns and claws and teeth: what are 
 you afraid of?" 
 
 "You'll be sorry one day," said the 
 ox. "The new animals will be the ruin 
 of us all. The danger threatens you 
 as well as the rest of us." 
 
 17
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 "I see no danger and know no 
 fear," said the lion, proudly. "But is 
 there really not one of you to take the 
 strangers' part?" 
 
 "If they did not belong to my fam- 
 ily, I would do so gladly," said the 
 orang-outang. "But it looks bad to 
 recommend one's own relations. Let 
 them go their way and starve. They 
 are quite harmless." 
 
 "Then I at least will say a good 
 word for them," said the dog. "My 
 foot is almost well again and I be- 
 lieve that they are cleverer than all 
 the rest of you put together. I shall 
 never forget what they did for me." 
 
 "That's right, cousin," said the lion. 
 "You're a fine fellow and one can 
 see that you come of a good stock. 
 I don't believe that these Two-Legs 
 are dangerous and I have no inten- 
 
 18
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS 
 
 tion of doing them any harm. To be 
 sure, if I meet them one day when 
 I am hungry, I shall eat them. 
 That's a different thing. Hunger 
 knows no law. But to-night I have 
 had enough to eat and I am going 
 home to bed. Good-night, all of you!" 
 
 Then none of the animals said an- 
 other word. They went away as 
 noiselessly as they had come. The 
 night came to an end and the day 
 broke in the east. 
 
 Then, suddenly, the ox and the horse 
 and the sheep and the goat came gal- 
 loping over the meadow. Behind 
 them, as fast as they could, came the 
 goose and the duck and the hen. The 
 ox was at their head and rushed with 
 lowered horns to the place where the 
 strangers lay sleeping. 
 
 But then the dog sprang up and 
 
 19
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 barked like mad. The two new ani- 
 mals woke and leapt to their feet. 
 And, when they stood there, tall and 
 slender, with their white limbs and 
 their steady eyes, and the sun shone 
 down upon them, the old animals 
 were seized with terror and ran back 
 the way they came. 
 
 "Thank you, friend," said Two- 
 Legs and stroked the dog. 
 
 Mrs. Two-Legs looked to his bad 
 foot and spoke to him in her pretty 
 voice. He licked their hands with de- 
 light. 
 
 Then the new animals bathed in the 
 river. And then Two-Legs climbed 
 up an apple-tree to get some break- 
 fast for himself and his wife. 
 
 In the tree sat the orang-outang 
 gnawing at an apple. 
 
 "Get out of that!" said Two-Legs, 
 20
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS 
 
 in a threatening voice. "This is my 
 tree and don't you forget it. Don't 
 you dare to touch a single apple 1" 
 
 "Goodness gracious me!" said the 
 orang-outang. "What a tone to take 
 up! And I who defended you last 
 night, when all the other animals 
 wanted to kill you !" 
 
 "Get out, you disgusting ape!" 
 said Two-Legs. 
 
 He broke a branch off the tree and 
 gave the orang-outang a couple of 
 such lusty cracks with it that he ran 
 off crying into the forest. 
 
 21
 
 II 
 
 MRS. TWO-LEGS HAS A SON 
 
 THE days passed. 
 
 Things were busy in the forest, both 
 above and below. All the wives had 
 eggs or young and all the husbands 
 had their work cut out to provide 
 food for their families. Everyone at- 
 tended to his business and took no 
 heed of his neighbour, except when 
 he wanted to eat him. 
 
 The new animals had taken up their 
 abode on an island in the river. 
 
 This was because the lion had met 
 them one day on the borders of the 
 copsewood. He had got out of their 
 way, as on the first occasion; but he 
 
 22
 
 MRS. TWO LEGS HAS A SON 
 
 had given them such a look that Mrs. 
 Two-Legs trembled with fright. 
 
 "He'll eat us one day," she said. "I 
 dare not sleep in the meadow again." 
 
 Then Two-Legs discovered the lit- 
 tle island and built a hut on it of 
 branches and grass. Every day, they 
 waded through the river and went to 
 gather fruit in the forest. At night, 
 they slept in their hut. The other ani- 
 mals had gradually all got used to 
 them and spoke of them but seldom. 
 Only the dog never forgot to run 
 down to the river every morning to 
 look across at the island and bark 
 " Good-morning! " to them. And the 
 orang-outang slandered them wher- 
 ever he went. 
 
 "Who minds about that?" asked the 
 stag. "They're relations; and we all 
 know what that means." 
 
 23
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 One night, a child was born to the 
 new animals. 
 
 "The Two-Legs have had a young 
 one," said the sparrow, who went 
 everywhere and always had some 
 news to tell. 
 
 "Really! I must go quick and have 
 a look at the baby," said Mrs. Night- 
 ingale. "My eggs will keep warm for 
 five little minutes." 
 
 "Mrs. Fox has gone there herself, 
 so I can leave my goslings alone for 
 a moment," said the goose. 
 
 Down by the river were a vast num- 
 ber of visitors and enquirers. 
 
 All the wives had run away from 
 hearth and home to have a look at the 
 Two-Legs. Mrs. Two-Legs was sit- 
 ting on the grass in front of the hut 
 with her child at her breast. Two- 
 Legs sat beside her, eating an orange. 
 
 24
 
 MRS. TWO-LEGS HAS A SON 
 
 "He's just the same as other hus- 
 bands," observed Mrs. Stag. 
 
 "There are some who are worse," 
 said Mrs. Mole. "My husband eats 
 the children, if I don't look after 
 them." 
 
 "Husbands are mere rubbish," said 
 Mrs. Spider. "I ate mine, as soon as 
 I had laid my eggs." 
 
 "Do spare us those gruesome sto- 
 ries," said Mrs. Nightingale. "Surely 
 he might sing to her a little. That's 
 what my husband does." 
 
 "Oh, but look at the baby! Isn't he 
 sweet?" exclaimed Mrs. Reed-War- 
 bler. 
 
 "Poor little thing!" said Mrs. Stag. 
 "He can't even stand on his legs and 
 the sparrow was saying that he was 
 born at eleven o'clock last night. 
 When my fawn was an hour old, he 
 
 25
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 was gambolling merrily over the 
 meadow." 
 
 "There's no sense in carrying a poor 
 little mite like that in one's arms," 
 said Mrs. Kangaroo. "If he were 
 mine, he should stay snugly in my 
 pouch until he knew how to behave 
 himself. But probably the poor wo- 
 man hasn't even got a pouch." 
 
 "At least he can see!" said Mrs. 
 Fox. "My children are blind for quite 
 nine days." 
 
 "Don't forget that they are poor 
 people," said the orang-outang. 
 "It's not so easy, when poor people 
 have children. The police ought to 
 forbid it." 
 
 "Stuff!" said Mrs. Nightingale. 
 "It's a dear little baby, as any mother 
 can see. Hi! Mrs. Two-Legs! You 
 must be sure to feed him on mag- 
 
 26
 
 MRS. TWO-LEGS HAS A SON 
 
 gots. Then he'll grow up nice and 
 fat." 
 
 "And, for goodness' sake, sit on 
 him at night!" cried Mrs. Reed- 
 Warbler. "Else he'll catch cold." 
 
 "Don't mind what any of them 
 say!" cried Mrs. Stag. "You stick to 
 the milk! That's good enough. And 
 put him down on the grass and let 
 him run about. You had much better 
 make him used to it from the start." 
 
 Mrs. Two-Legs looked at her baby 
 and did not listen to what they said. 
 He had now finished drinking and 
 began to crow and to kick about with 
 his little legs and arms. Two-Legs 
 took him and lifted him high in the 
 air and laughed at him. 
 
 "Isn't he sweet?" said Mrs. Reed- 
 Warbler. 
 
 "He's all that," said Mrs. Stag. 
 27
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 "But his parents are very self-suffi- 
 cient. They won't look at any one 
 else." And she called across to the 
 island. "It's all right, Mrs. Two- 
 Legs! You go or with the milk. 
 And, if you run short, come to me. 
 My only fawn died the other day, so 
 I have plenty!" 
 
 Then they all hurried home again, 
 lest their husbands should come and 
 find out that they had been gossip- 
 ing. 
 
 "I am going to fetch a couple of 
 oranges or something of the sort," 
 said Two-Legs. "It may be some 
 time before I'm back, for we have 
 eaten everything on the trees round 
 about here." 
 
 "Be as quick as you can," replied 
 his wife. "You know that I don't like 
 being alone at this time." 
 
 28
 
 MRS. TWO-LEGS HAS A SON 
 
 He waded through the river and 
 went into the forest. After a long 
 while, he came back, having found 
 only a couple of poor little fruits. 
 He was annoyed at this and so was 
 his wife, for she was hungry. Then 
 they sat and discussed whether they 
 could not find something else that 
 was fit to eat in the neighbourhood. 
 For, once the evening had come, they 
 did not dare leave the island. 
 
 "Last evening," said Two-Legs, "I 
 saw the otter catch a big fish in the 
 river here and eat him. Perhaps we 
 could do the same." 
 
 "Do try," said Mrs. Two-Legs. 
 "One thing is certain, I must have 
 some food." 
 
 He went out into the river and with 
 his hands caught a great pike, who 
 was swimming just past him, not 
 
 29
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 dreaming of danger. He had so often 
 seen Two-Legs wading through the 
 river and Two-Legs had never looked 
 at him. But now Two-Legs flung 
 him on the island and there lay the 
 pike gaping and gasping for breath 
 and yelling with might and main: 
 
 "Hi! . . . Ho! . . . Murder! . . . 
 Help!" 
 
 But he was soon dead. Two-Legs 
 and his wife ate him and found him 
 excellent. 
 
 "Get me another fish like that to- 
 morrow, will you?" said Mrs. Two- 
 Legs. "Frankly speaking, I was get- 
 ting rather tired of those apples." 
 
 Next day, Two-Legs went into the 
 river again. He was not long before 
 he saw another fine fish, but, just as 
 he wanted to catch it, the otter 
 snapped it away in front of his nose. 
 
 30
 
 MRS. TWO-LEGS HAS A SON 
 
 "Get out of my river, you thief!" 
 shouted Two-Legs and struck at him. 
 
 "Whom are you calling thief?" said 
 the otter, snarling and showing his 
 white teeth. "I rather thought the 
 river was mine. I was living here 
 long before you came." 
 
 Two-Legs leapt on shore and 
 picked up some big stones and flung 
 them at the otter. One of them caught 
 him on the snout and made it bleed. 
 Then he hid in his hole and Two- 
 Legs caught another fish and 
 took it home to his wife. But, when 
 the otter came out again at night, the 
 orang-outang was sitting there and 
 nodding to him: 
 
 "I have seen all," said the orang- 
 outang. "I was sitting in the tree 
 over there and saw him throw the 
 stone at you. The water turned quite 
 
 31
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 red with your blood. He ill-treated 
 me once too. He said the apples 
 were his and drove me out of the tree 
 with a stick. And to think that we 
 are relations!" 
 
 "If I could only get at him!" said 
 the otter. "But I am too small." 
 
 "All in good time," answered the 
 orang-outang. "We shall be even 
 with him yet."
 
 Ill 
 
 BLOOD ! 
 
 THE sun was blazing and the ground 
 was shockingly dry. 
 
 The trees and bushes hung their 
 leaves and the grass was parched and 
 yellow, so that the ox could hardly 
 find a green tuft to eat. The water in 
 the river was so low that the fish 
 swam along the bottom and the brook 
 had stopped running. The animals 
 lay in the shadow and gasped for 
 breath. In many places, both flowers 
 and animals had died. Two-Legs and 
 his wife and child were not much bet- 
 ter off. 
 
 The only one who was really happy 
 
 S3
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 was the snake. He stretched himself 
 in the sun and thought life delight- 
 ful. 
 
 "Shine away, little sun," he said. 
 "The hotter the better. I am only 
 just beginning to feel alive." 
 
 But one day the rain came. 
 
 It was not the sort of rain against 
 which one can put up an umbrella or 
 take shelter in a doorway and wait 
 until it stops. It poured down from 
 the clouds so that one could not see 
 one's hand before one's face and it 
 rained day after day, as though it 
 would never end. It rattled and pat- 
 tered and clattered on the dry leaves 
 so that one could not hear a sound. 
 The river flowed again and the brook 
 woke from its trance and sang as it 
 had never sung before. The whole 
 earth was like a thirsty mouth that 
 
 34
 
 BLOOD! 
 
 drank and drank and could never 
 quench its thirst. 
 
 And a great gladness reigned on 
 every hand. 
 
 The trees stretched themselves and 
 spread out and sent forth new shoots 
 and the grass sprang fresh and green 
 from the ground. The flowers blos- 
 somed anew, the frogs croaked so that 
 they were heard all over the forest 
 and the fish napped merrily with their 
 tails. Two-Legs and his family sat in 
 front of their leafy hut and rejoiced 
 with the rest. 
 
 But it went on raining. 
 
 The river overflowed its banks and 
 Two-Legs feared lest his island 
 should go under in the waves. The 
 water soaked through the roof of the 
 hut until there was not a dry spot in- 
 side. 
 
 35
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 "The baby is cold," said Mrs. Two- 
 Legs. 
 
 They decided to leave the island 
 and crossed the river with great diffi- 
 culty, for it was now very deep. They 
 waded through the damp meadow 
 and carried the child by turns. Then 
 they found a tree which was so con- 
 trived that they could live in it. They 
 twisted the branches together and 
 built a roof and stopped up the 
 holes as best they could with grass 
 and moss; and this was their new 
 house. 
 
 "The water can't reach us here," 
 said Two-Legs. 
 
 "But it's raining through the roof," 
 said his wife. "The baby is cold and 
 so am I." 
 
 "It's just as I always said," ob- 
 served the orang-outang. "They have 
 
 36
 
 BLOOD! 
 
 no hide or fur or anything and they'll 
 come to a terrible end." 
 
 "You ought to have fed your little 
 one on maggots, Mrs. Two-Legs," 
 said Mrs. Nightingale. "Then he 
 would have thrived better. My young 
 ones already are almost as big as my- 
 self." 
 
 "You ought to have put him in the 
 meadow and let him jump about, as 
 I advised you," said Mrs. Stag. 
 "Then he would have been able to 
 shift for himself by now." 
 
 "You should sit on him," said Mrs. 
 Reed-Warbler. "That's how I keep 
 my young ones warm." 
 
 Mrs. Two-Legs said nothing, but 
 looked at her boy, who was shivering 
 with cold. 
 
 "It's really a horribly spoilt child," 
 said Mrs. Hedgehog. "Of course, 
 
 37
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 what must be must be ; and, once you 
 have brought children into the world, 
 you have to give them a decent bring- 
 ing-up. But a great big thumping 
 lout like that, of six months old, 
 still at his mother's breast: fie, for 
 shame! What he wants is a good 
 beating and then turn him loose into 
 the world!" 
 
 "There's nothing to be done with 
 people like that," said Mrs. Stag. 
 "They won't use their common sense ; 
 and, as they have made their bed, 
 they must lie in it." 
 
 Then they went away. 
 
 Mrs. Two-Legs sat in the tree and 
 the rain poured down and the baby 
 cried with cold. 
 
 "Look at that silly sheep in the 
 meadow," said Mrs. Two - Legs. 
 "She's warm and comfortable in her 
 
 38
 
 BLOOD! 
 
 thick fleece, while my poor dear little 
 boy lies here shivering." 
 
 Two-Legs heard what she said, but 
 made no reply. He sat silent for a 
 while and thought over things. Then 
 he climbed down from the tree and 
 sat on the ground a little and thought 
 again. The rain splashed and clat- 
 tered. Up in the tree, the little baby 
 cried with cold. Down in the meadow, 
 the sheep moved about and grazed. 
 
 Then Two-Legs rose and went up 
 to the sheep. On his way, he took a 
 sharp stone and hid it in his hand. He 
 went very slowly and looked to one 
 side, so as not to frighten the sheep. 
 Then suddenly, with a bound, he 
 caught hold of her: 
 
 "Baa! Baa! Murder! Help! I'm 
 dying!" cried the sheep. 
 
 Two-Legs struck her on the fore- 
 
 39
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 head with the stone and she fell to the 
 ground. Then he strangled her with 
 his hands, caught her by the fleece 
 and dragged her to the tree where he 
 had made his home. 
 
 He cut a hole in her hide with the 
 sharp stone and began to pull it off 
 with his finger-nails. His wife came 
 down and helped him. They used 
 their teeth also, to finish the work 
 more quickly, and, presently, they 
 stopped and looked at each other 
 with beaming eyes: 
 
 "How delicious!" he said. 
 
 "Wonderful!" said she. "Let us 
 hurry now and give the boy the fleece. 
 Then we will go on eating." 
 
 Two-Legs drank the blood of the 
 sheep and bit into the meat. 
 
 "I feel stronger than I ever did be- 
 fore," he said. "Let the lion come 
 40
 
 BLOOD! 
 
 now, then he'll have me to deal 
 with." 
 
 They wrapped the fleece round the 
 child, who went comfortably to sleep 
 at once. Then they dragged up the 
 rest of the sheep into their house in 
 the tree and sat down to eat. Every 
 bite they took made them feel braver 
 and stronger. They gave no more 
 thought to cold or rain, but sat and 
 talked of the future as they had 
 never talked before. 
 
 "I should like to have a sheepskin 
 like that for myself," said she. 
 
 "So you shall," said he, gnawing a 
 bone. "Unless we find another animal 
 that has a still softer and warmer 
 skin. I want a fur too. ... I say, 
 we might cover the roof with sheep- 
 skins; that would keep out the rain. 
 I will go out to-morrow and find 
 41
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 some more sheep and kill them and 
 bring them home." 
 
 "Then we'll eat them," said Mrs. 
 Two-Legs. 
 
 "I should think so!" said he. "We'll 
 eat meat every day. What a good 
 thing that I thought of it, for the fish 
 in the river were already growing 
 afraid of me!" 
 
 "Mind you don't meet with an ac- 
 cident," said she. 
 
 "That's all right," he said. "I'll go 
 down to the river the first thing in 
 the morning and pick out some sharp 
 stones, in case I should lose the one I 
 have. And, look here, I'll tell you 
 what: I'll fasten one of those sharp 
 stones to the end of a stick, with a 
 shoot of some kind or other; a long 
 stick, do you see? Then I need not 
 go up to the sheep to hit them. I 
 
 42
 
 BLOOD! 
 
 can throw the stone. For, of course, 
 they will be afraid of me as soon as 
 they hear that I have killed one of 
 them. . . ." 
 
 While they were talking like this, 
 all the animals of the forest had 
 gathered in the meadow, just as on 
 the first night when the new animals 
 arrived. 
 
 "Two-Legs has killed the sheep!" 
 cried the sparrow and hurried on with 
 her news, drenched and rumpled as 
 she was with the rain. 
 
 "Two-Legs has murdered the sheep 
 and the ox and the goat!" screamed 
 the crow and flapped her wet wings. 
 
 "Softly!" said the ox. "I'm alive 
 still, thank goodness, though I'm 
 quite prepared for the worst." 
 
 "Two-Legs has killed all the ani- 
 mals in the forest . . . he's sitting 
 
 43
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 in the meadow eating the lion," whis- 
 pered the reeds to one another. 
 
 Then all the animals rushed down to 
 the meadow to hear the exact state of 
 affairs. The lion stood in their midst, 
 with his head proudly raised. 
 
 "What's all this noise about?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "May I speak?" said the orang- 
 outang, holding up one finger. "I 
 was sitting in the palm-tree over 
 there and saw the whole thing. It was 
 terrible." 
 
 "What a mean fellow you are!" said 
 the lion. "You're giving evidence 
 against your own relations." 
 
 "Very distant," replied the orang- 
 outang. "Exceedingly distant. I will 
 remind you that I expressly refused 
 to take any responsibility for these 
 Two-Legs, who only bring disgrace 
 
 44
 
 BLOOD! 
 
 upon the family. Well, I was sitting 
 in the tree and saw him come run- 
 ning up, fling himself on the sheep 
 and strangle her. Then he dragged 
 the poor beast to the tree in which he 
 is living. I crept up behind him and 
 saw him skin her. The woman helped 
 him and then they climbed up the 
 tree and feasted." 
 
 "Is that all?" asked the lion. "I've 
 eaten plenty of sheep in my time, 
 though I prefer deer on the whole. 
 Why shouldn't Two-Legs help him- 
 self to a bit of meat if he likes?" 
 
 "If I may speak, I should like to 
 remind you of what I said when we 
 last met," said the ox. "It's easy for 
 you to talk like that, for Two-Legs 
 can't do you any harm. It's we others 
 that he eats. Still, you had better 
 look out. He may become a danger- 
 
 45
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 ous competitor. Supposing he gets a 
 large family of children and they all 
 take to eating mutton?" 
 
 "Then there's always beef left!" 
 said the lion and laughed and showed 
 his terrible teeth. 
 
 "Just so," said the ox and cautious- 
 ly took a step backward. "The oxen 
 will get their turn, now that he's 
 tasted blood. He looks awfully 
 greedy. And I feel as if he had eaten 
 me already." 
 
 "Humph!" said the lion. "There 
 may be something in that. I don't 
 like beating about the bush. Let us 
 go and have a word or two with the 
 fellow." 
 
 He moved on and the orang-outang 
 skipped along eagerly in front of 
 him. 
 
 "This way, this way!" he said. 
 
 46
 
 BLOOD! 
 
 The lion stood under the tree where 
 Two-Legs had made his home. All 
 the other animals of the forest had 
 followed him and stood listening and 
 staring. 
 
 "Two-Legs!" roared the lion with 
 his mighty voice. 
 
 It sounded like thunder and they all 
 started with fear. The lion lashed 
 his tail and looked up at the tree. 
 Not a sound came from it. He 
 called out again, but there was no 
 answer. 
 
 "The impudent beggars!" said the 
 orang-outang. 
 
 "Perhaps they are dead," said the 
 nightingale. "Perhaps they have 
 over - eaten themselves with the 
 sheep." 
 
 "You don't die of eating too much, 
 but of eating too little," said the pig, 
 
 47
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 who kept on rooting in the ground 
 with his snout, in search of something 
 for himself to eat. 
 
 Then the lion roared for the third 
 time ; and the noise was so loud that a 
 tiny little finch tumbled off her twig 
 right into the jaws of the snake, who 
 swallowed her before any one had 
 uttered a sound ; and nobody ever got 
 wind of the story. 
 
 And now Two-Legs appeared at 
 the top of the tree. 
 
 He had been fast asleep after the 
 hearty meal which he had enjoyed; 
 and he was furious at being roused. 
 His hair hung about his face in dis- 
 order and his eyes were bloodshot 
 and his mouth covered with foam. 
 
 "Who dares disturb my sleep?" he 
 shouted. 
 
 "I do: the lion." 
 
 48
 
 BLOOD! 
 
 "The lion, the king of beasts," they 
 all cried, respectfully, with one voice. 
 
 "I am king in my own house," said 
 Two -Legs. ''Be off, I want to 
 sleep." 
 
 "He is defying the lion. . . . He 
 is mad. ... I won't give a penny 
 for his life!" cried the animals. 
 
 But Two-Legs took the thigh-bone 
 of the sheep, aimed it and flung it 
 with all his might at the lion. It hit 
 the king of beasts in the middle of the 
 forehead. He uttered a frightful 
 roar. All the animals rushed terrified 
 across the meadow. The lion ran in 
 their midst, constantly roaring, so 
 that it echoed all over the forest. 
 
 But Two-Legs lay down quietly to 
 sleep and slept until broad daylight. 
 
 When he woke and had climbed 
 down the tree, the dog lay gnawing 
 
 49
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 the bone which Two-Legs had flung 
 at the lion. The dog wagged his tail ; 
 Two-Legs stroked him and gave him 
 another bone. 
 
 "Will you be my servant and 
 friend?" asked Two-Legs. 
 
 "Gladly," said the dog. "You have 
 been kinder to me than the others 
 and you are stronger and cleverer 
 than they." 
 
 "Very well," said Two - Legs. 
 "Then you shall keep watch over me 
 and mine and help me when I go 
 hunting and bear me company." 
 
 50
 
 IV 
 
 TIME PASSES 
 
 THE rainy season went by, the sun 
 recovered his strength and rain and 
 sunshine came and went by turns. 
 Time passed, as it must and will pass. 
 
 The Two-Legs family were now 
 living in a new house, which was bet- 
 ter than either the leafy hut on the 
 island or the dwelling up in the 
 apple-tree. 
 
 It was a cave in the rocks, which 
 Two-Legs had discovered on one of 
 his rambles. It was cool in the warm 
 weather and mild in the cold, it was 
 sheltered against the rain and it 
 could be closed with a big stone at 
 
 51
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 night or when danger threatened. 
 Two-Legs had hung the walls with 
 skins and carpeted the floor with 
 moss and now felt comfortably at 
 home with his family and the dog. 
 
 He had plenty to do, for the family 
 had increased. He now had three 
 children, who were doing excellently 
 well and eating like wolves. He had 
 had to be careful since the night when 
 he had flung the bone at the lion's 
 head, for not only had he made an 
 enemy of the king of beasts, but most 
 of the other animals of the forest 
 looked upon him with suspicion. 
 
 And they were well-advised, for 
 Two-Legs had become a mighty 
 hunter, in no way inferior to the lion 
 himself. 
 
 In the back room of his cave he 
 kept two big spears and one little 
 
 52
 
 TIME PASSES 
 
 one which his eldest son was already 
 able to use very cleverly. They lay 
 in wait craftily for their prey, just 
 as the lion and the other hunters of 
 the forest did. The dog drove the 
 game towards them and they threw 
 their spears and killed it. 
 
 "He's a better hunter than I," said 
 the lion, one evening, to his wife. 
 "He got a young deer with his spear 
 to-day that I had picked out for my- 
 self." 
 
 "Why didn't you catch her your- 
 self?" asked the lioness. 
 
 "I was crawling up to her in the 
 grass," he replied. "But, before I 
 could make my spring, Two-Legs 
 had killed her. He sent his spear 
 through her neck and she fell dead 
 on the spot." 
 
 "Then why didn't you take her 
 
 53
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 from him after he had killed her?" 
 asked the lioness again. 
 
 "He had another spear in his hand," 
 said the lion. "And his youngling 
 had one also. The spear is a thing I 
 don't understand. They who are 
 struck by it fall down and die." 
 
 "You're afraid of Two - Legs," 
 sneered the lioness. "He's the king 
 of the forest, not you. If your son 
 proves as big a coward as yourself, 
 we're done for." 
 
 The lion said nothing, but lay star- 
 ing before him with his yellow eyes. 
 
 But, a little before daybreak, he 
 stole up to Two-Legs' cave, hid in 
 the bushes and waited patiently until 
 the stone was rolled away. This hap- 
 pened immediately after sunrise. The 
 lion made ready to leap. He saw blood 
 before his eyes and sprang, almost 
 
 54
 
 TIME PASSES 
 
 without thinking, upon the first form 
 that appeared, struck it down with 
 his powerful claws and carried it 
 back with a bound into the bushes. 
 
 A terrible scream brought Two- 
 Legs to the entrance of the cave. He 
 stood holding a spear in either hand. 
 The lion saw that he had not killed 
 his enemy, but only one of his child- 
 ren. He let go the corpse and pre- 
 pared to make a fresh spring. Two- 
 Legs now saw him among the leaves. 
 He flung one spear and missed him. 
 Then he threw the other, but the 
 lion was gone, with great bounds. 
 
 With tears and lamentations, Two- 
 Legs and his wife bore the dead child 
 into the cave. The lion, hurried by 
 fear, fled through the forest. Wher- 
 ever he came, the terrified animals 
 fell aside. 
 
 55
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 "The lion is flying from Two- 
 Legs," announced the sparrow. 
 
 And the rumour spread through the 
 whole forest and grew. 
 
 "Two-Legs has wounded the king 
 of beasts with his spear," screamed 
 the crow. 
 
 "Two-Legs has killed the lion and 
 is hunting the lioness," squeaked the 
 mouse. 
 
 And the lion fled on. 
 
 He rushed past his lair, as though 
 he dared not look his wife in the face. 
 He did not come home until late at 
 night. 
 
 "Are you still alive?" asked the 
 lioness, scoffing. "The whole forest 
 believes you dead. And what about 
 Two-Legs?" 
 
 "I have killed one of his young," 
 answered the lion, angrily. 
 56
 
 TIME PASSES 
 
 "What's the good of that?" asked 
 she. 
 
 Then he caught her a box on the 
 ear the like of which she had never 
 had before, lay down and stared be- 
 fore him with his yellow eyes. 
 
 But the animals in the forest all 
 wondered and whispered to one an- 
 other : 
 
 "The lion is afraid. . . . The lion 
 runs away from Two-Legs." 
 
 "Didn't I tell you so?" said the ox. 
 "We ought to have killed him then 
 and there." 
 
 "Ah, yes!" said the horse. "If the 
 lion had only taken our advice!" 
 
 "Ah, yes!" sighed the duck and the 
 goose and the hen. 
 
 But the orang-outang went to one 
 side in the forest and reflected: 
 
 "My cousin is not such a fool as 
 
 57
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 I thought," said he to himself. "I 
 really don't know why I shouldn't 
 go and do the same. I am like him, 
 but have many advantages which he 
 has not; and I ought to do at least 
 as well as he." 
 
 He took a stick and tried if he could 
 walk like Two-Legs. He succeeded 
 quite nicely and then he made for 
 the other animals. He lifted his stick, 
 yelled and made terrible eyes. But the 
 animals crowded round and laughed 
 at him. The fox snatched the stick 
 from his hand, the stag butted him 
 in the back, the sparrow behaved un- 
 civilly on his head and they all made 
 such fun of him that he ran away 
 and hid in the copsewood, where it 
 was thickest. 
 
 But the next morning the animals 
 had fresh food for thought. 
 
 58
 
 TIME PASSES 
 
 They saw Two-Legs carry the 
 corpse into the forest and build a 
 great heap of stones over it. His wife 
 picked the reddest flowers and laid 
 them on the stones. 
 
 "Well, I never!" said the nightin- 
 gale. "When another dies, he's left, 
 if you please, to lie where he falls. 
 But as much fuss is made about this 
 brat as if his memory were to last for 
 all eternity! I don't even know what 
 has become of my living children of 
 last year, not to speak of the poor 
 little chap who fell out of the nest 
 and broke his neck." 
 
 "You just wait. There's worse to 
 come," said the ox. 
 
 And it came. For, a week later, 
 
 something happened that enraged 
 
 the animals of the forest more than 
 
 all that had gone before. Mrs. Two- 
 
 59
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 Legs saw a splendid bird of paradise 
 sitting in a tree. 
 
 "What wonderful feathers!" she 
 said. "If I could only have a tuft 
 like that to wear in my hair!" 
 
 Two-Legs, who wanted to do every- 
 thing to console her for the death of 
 the child, at once went out with his 
 spear and soon came back with the 
 dead bird of paradise. She pulled out 
 his feathers and stuck them in her 
 hair and thought she looked charm- 
 ing; and Two-Legs thought so too. 
 
 "Now this is really too bad," said 
 the nightingale. "To kill a bird only 
 to adorn his wife with the feathers! 
 Did you ever in your born days ! It's 
 well for me that I'm grey and ugly." 
 
 The widow of the bird of paradise, 
 followed by a great host, went off to 
 the lion. 
 
 60
 
 TIME PASSES 
 
 "The new animals have killed my 
 husband," she said. "Here am I left 
 a widow with four cold eggs. Now 
 that my bread-winner is killed, I 
 can't stay at home and sit on the 
 eggs, unless I want to die of hunger. 
 So I left them, to look for some food. 
 When I returned, they were cold and 
 dead. I have come to demand ven- 
 geance upon the murderer." 
 
 "What can I say?" said the lion. 
 "There are so many widows in the 
 forest. I myself don't ask if the ani- 
 mals that I kill, when I am hungry, 
 have wives and children at home." 
 
 "He didn't do it because he was 
 hungry," said the widow of the bird 
 of paradise. "He did it only to pre- 
 sent his wife with a tuft of feathers 
 for her hair." 
 
 "What's he to do when his wife asks 
 61
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 him?" said the lion. "It's no joke to 
 fall out with the missis." 
 
 Some of the animals laughed. But 
 most of them shook their heads and 
 thought it a stupid jest, unworthy of 
 the king of beasts. 
 
 The next day, the animals of the 
 forest spoke of nothing but Two- 
 Legs. They one and all had some- 
 thing to complain of. 
 
 "He took my whole nest, the other 
 day, with seventeen new-laid eggs in 
 it," said the hen. 
 
 "There are no fish left in the river," 
 said the otter. "And one gets blud- 
 geoned into the bargain." 
 
 "One can no longer graze in peace 
 in the meadows," said the stag. 
 
 But, if sorrow and terror reigned 
 among the large and important ani- 
 mals, the small and poor animals 
 
 62
 
 TIME PASSES 
 
 were just LS glad and, in fact, were 
 highly amused at the misfortunes of 
 their betters. 
 
 "Why should we care?" asked the 
 fly. "Let the big ones eat one an- 
 other up, as they please: it doesn't 
 concern us in any case. And I, for 
 my part, would rather have Two- 
 Legs than the nightingale." 
 
 "No one is safe," said the bee. "He 
 took my honey yesterday." 
 
 "Yes," said the earth-worm. "And, 
 the day before that, he took my own 
 brother, stuck him on a hook and 
 caught a perch with him." 
 
 68
 
 V 
 
 TWO-LEGS ENLARGES HIS POSSESSIONS 
 
 TWO-LEGS sat thinking outside his 
 cave. The dog lay at his feet asleep. 
 Indoors, Mrs. Two-Legs was busy 
 preparing breakfast. 
 
 Two-Legs was in a bad temper, for 
 he had had bad hunting. 
 
 The day before, he had scoured the 
 forest without coming upon any 
 game whatever and, that morning, 
 he had done no better. 
 
 The animals had become afraid of 
 him. His spear had reduced their 
 numbers so greatly that they fled the 
 moment they saw him come in the 
 distance. They knew the hours when 
 he went hunting and they hid from 
 
 64
 
 HE ENLARGES HIS POSSESSIONS 
 
 him. They posted sentries, who 
 warned them with loud cries when 
 he or the dog came in sight. There 
 was not a stag nor an ox nor a sheep 
 nor a goat in the country that lay 
 nearest to the cave. Scarcely ever did 
 an animal graze in the meadow down 
 below, in front of it. They had all 
 retired to where the forest grew 
 thickest and where he could only 
 penetrate with difficulty. Nor did it 
 give him any pleasure to hunt up 
 there, where the lion might so easily 
 be lying in ambush. 
 
 "Things are looking bad, Trust," 
 he said to the dog. "We must invent 
 something new." 
 
 He sat and sharpened his knives 
 and axes, which he had made out of 
 flint, and then Mrs. Two-Legs came 
 out with the breakfast, which con- 
 
 65
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 sisted only of apples and nuts. There 
 was not even a fish to be had. The 
 fish disappeared as soon as they saw 
 Two-Legs' reflection in the water. 
 
 "I say," said Two-Legs, suddenly. 
 "It would be much easier if I caught 
 a couple of sheep and we kept them 
 here in the cave. Then they would 
 have lambs, which we could kill, and 
 I need not continually and perpetu- 
 ally go hunting." 
 
 Mrs. Two-Legs thought this a good 
 idea and, as they sat and talked about 
 it, he recovered his temper. He wove 
 a long rope of tendrils and then went 
 off with his spear, the dog and two 
 of his sons. 
 
 He stole along the borders of the 
 forest until at last he caught sight 
 of a sheep that was grazing in a dis- 
 tant meadow with two lambs. He 
 
 66
 
 HE ENLARGES HIS POSSESSIONS 
 
 crept up to her on all fours, while 
 Trust received orders to be quite still. 
 When he was near enough, he flung 
 the sling and was lucky enough to 
 drop it just over the neck of the 
 sheep. She bleated pitifully, but the 
 noose held fast and tightened. Two- 
 Legs, rejoicing, led the animal home 
 and the two little lambs came after, 
 for they did not know what else to do. 
 
 When he came home, he fastened 
 the sheep to a tree in front of the 
 cave. They ate one of the lambs and 
 let the other live. The children ran 
 down to the meadow and fetched 
 armfuls of grass and the sheep ate 
 and gave her lamb to drink. 
 
 "Do you mean to eat me too?" she 
 asked Two-Legs that evening, as he 
 sat outside the cave with his family, 
 rejoicing over his work. 
 
 67
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 "No," he said, "I do not. I shall 
 keep you with me and you shall be 
 my servant, like the dog. To-morrow, 
 I shall go out and catch your hus- 
 band. Then you shall bear me plenty 
 of lambs and I shall eat some and 
 put some by, just as I happen to 
 want them." 
 
 "You killed my sister and pulled 
 off her skin," said the sheep. 
 
 "I know better now," said Two- 
 Legs. "You shall see for yourself." 
 
 Mrs. Two-Legs came with a knife 
 and cut off the old sheep's wool. The 
 sheep struggled and yelled pitifully, 
 but Two-Legs was determined and 
 she was bound so tight that resistance 
 was of no avail. 
 
 "Now I shall be cold myself when 
 it rains," cried the sheep. 
 
 "Nonsense 1" said Two-Legs. "When 
 
 68
 
 HE ENLARGES HIS POSSESSIONS 
 
 it turns cold, I shall take you into 
 my cave. I want your wool to make 
 clothes of. It's no use your raising 
 difficulties. If you're good and obe- 
 dient, you shall have a better time 
 with me than you ever had in your 
 life." 
 
 At night, while Two-Legs slept, 
 the sheep stood outside and thought 
 over things. The ox stuck his head 
 across the bushes and, a little after- 
 wards, the stag stood there too and 
 the horse and the goat and many of 
 the other animals. 
 
 "What has he hit upon now?" asked 
 the ox. "The sparrow says that he 
 has fastened you up and cut off your 
 wool." 
 
 "It's only too true," replied the 
 sheep. "See for yourself how naked 
 I am. He has eaten one of my lambs 
 
 69
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 and he is going to catch my husband 
 to-morrow. But I must say that he 
 has plucked grass for me, so that I 
 have eaten my fill." 
 
 "It is awful," said the ox. "But it 
 is only what we expected. Can't you 
 get loose?" 
 
 "I've tried," said the sheep. "But 
 it's no use. The more I pull, the 
 tighter the noose gets round my 
 neck. I am a prisoner and a prisoner 
 I remain." 
 
 "Rather die than live a slave!" said 
 the wolf. "I will do your lamb the 
 service to eat her." 
 
 So saying, he caught hold of the 
 lamb and bit her in the throat. The 
 sheep screamed at the top of her 
 voice, Two-Legs woke up and ran 
 out and all the animals rushed away. 
 
 "You've been asleep, Trust," he 
 
 70
 
 HE ENLARGES HIS POSSESSIONS 
 
 said. "We must see to-morrow how 
 we can prevent these accidents. A 
 nice thing, if I am to catch sheep for 
 the wolf and fatten them for him to 
 eat!" 
 
 And the next morning he thought 
 of a remedy. 
 
 He and his sons went into the forest 
 and felled some trees with their axes. 
 Then they cut them into sharp stakes 
 and, after they had prepared a quan- 
 tity of these, they planted them in a 
 circle outside the cave. Then they 
 wove twigs between the stakes' and, 
 by sunset, they had a safe and strong 
 pen over which no wolf could jump. 
 Two-Legs put the sheep into it. 
 
 A few days later, he caught the ram 
 
 with his sling. He went on hunting 
 
 and soon the cow was there and the 
 
 bull and their calves. The pen was 
 
 71
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 too small and he had to build a big- 
 ger one. The whole family went out 
 to fetch grass, but could never bring 
 in enough. The animals in the pen 
 bleated and lowed. 
 At night, they talked together: 
 "Candidly speaking," said the 
 sheep, "this life has its advantages. 
 Down there, in the meadow, one 
 never felt sure of one's life: first the 
 lion was after one, then the wolf and 
 the snake and the eagle, to say no- 
 thing of Two-Legs himself." 
 
 "There is something in that," said 
 the cow. "But I can't stand the way 
 in which Mrs. Two-Legs pulls at my 
 udders. And then I am not so sure 
 that they don't mean to kill me one 
 fine day. There will be too many of 
 us here before long."
 
 VI 
 
 TWO-LEGS WANDERS 
 
 TWO-LEGS began to find it difficult 
 to provide grass for the many ani- 
 mals which he had in the pen. 
 
 He and his family had long plucked 
 all that grew nearest the cave. Now 
 they had to go a long way to find 
 any and it was hard work getting it 
 home. 
 
 "We shall have to move," he said 
 to his wife. "We can't go on drag- 
 ging the grass up for all the animals. 
 And, as the grass won't come to us, 
 we must go to the grass. We must 
 go down to the meadow again. You 
 will have to weave us a woollen tent. 
 Then we will get all the skins we can 
 73
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 and dig stakes into the ground and 
 hang the skins over them. That's the 
 best way. And then the animals can 
 go and graze all round the tent." 
 
 "But when they have eaten the 
 grass in the meadow, what then?" 
 asked Mrs. Two-Legs. 
 
 "Then we will pass on to the next 
 one," answered Two-Legs. "We will 
 pack up the tent, load it on the back 
 of the cow and move on." 
 
 "If only the animals don't run 
 away!" said she. 
 
 "Trust must help me to look after 
 them," he replied. "And the boys. 
 Then all will be well. They know us 
 now and they let us stroke them. 
 You shall see, they will soon be quite 
 tame." 
 
 The next morning, they began to 
 break up the pen. 
 74
 
 TWO-LEGS WANDERS 
 
 "Is he going to set us free?" asked 
 the cow. 
 
 "I don't want to go down to the 
 meadow again," said the sheep and 
 began to cry. "My legs are stiffer 
 than they were and I can't walk as 
 well as I used to. And my eye-sight 
 is worse and I have hardly any scent 
 left: it's so long since I used my 
 senses. I want to stay with Two- 
 Legs and obtain my food from his 
 hand." 
 
 "You've already become a slave," 
 said the cow. "And you don't deserve 
 to be free. If I see my chance, I shall 
 be off. He killed my calf yester- 
 day: I shall never forgive him for 
 that." 
 
 "Oh, well," said the sheep, "sup- 
 pose we do lose a youngling or two 
 and even risk losing our own lives: 
 
 75
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 what other fate could we expect in 
 any case?" 
 
 "You have the soul of a serf 1" said 
 the cow, contemptuously. 
 
 Two-Legs had finished breaking 
 down the pen. Meanwhile, his wife 
 had packed up all their things. They 
 loaded the cow with as much as she 
 could carry, took up the rest them- 
 selves and started on their way to the 
 meadow. 
 
 "My fears are now being realized," 
 said the cow, groaning under the un- 
 wonted burden. "I am dead-tired in 
 my loins and legs." 
 
 And hardly had they come down to 
 where the meadow began, when she 
 threw off her load and rushed away, 
 followed by the bull. Trust flew after 
 them, but they turned round and 
 showed him their horns, which made 
 76
 
 TWO-LEGS WANDERS 
 
 him run back with his tail between 
 his legs. Two-Legs threw his spear 
 at them, but missed them. 
 
 "Time will bring counsel," he said. 
 "I shall go out and catch them again 
 to-morrow. Let us pitch our tent now 
 and arrange our things." 
 
 They set up the tent on a little hill 
 from which they could look over the 
 meadow. At the foot bubbled a 
 spring. Trust drove the sheep into 
 the meadow and home again. Two- 
 Legs caught the hen, the goose and 
 the duck and clipped their wings, so 
 that they could not fly away. Gradu- 
 ally, he got a number of sheep and 
 goats and a quantity of poultry. 
 
 When the animals had eaten all the 
 
 grass in that place, he struck his tent 
 
 again and moved to another meadow 
 
 and so it went on. It appeared as if 
 
 77
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 he had quite forgotten the cow. But, 
 one day, his wife reminded him of 
 her: 
 
 "You must get the cow back for 
 me," she said. "I need her milk so 
 badly. And both I and the children 
 want new calf -skin sandals." 
 
 Two-Legs took his spear, hung his 
 sling round his neck and went off to 
 look for the cow. When he had gone 
 some way, he saw her in the distance ; 
 but she saw him too and trotted away 
 at once. The horse, who was standing 
 a little way off, looked at Two-Legs 
 mockingly : 
 
 "You would like to have my four 
 quick legs," he said. 
 
 "I should indeed!" 
 
 "It's well that there's something 
 you can't manage," said the horse. 
 "It's dangerous, otherwise, the way 
 78
 
 TWO-LEGS WANDERS 
 
 you play at being master of the 
 forest." 
 
 Two-Legs made no reply, but very 
 quietly unwound his sling. Then, 
 when he had got it right, he suddenly 
 threw it over the horse's head. It 
 fell round the animal's neck and he 
 reared on his hind-legs and darted 
 away wildly. But, at every leap he 
 took, the noose drew tighter and 
 Two-Legs did not let go the rope. 
 At one moment, he was dragged 
 along the ground and, at the next, 
 recovered his feet again. He twisted 
 the rope round his hand and it cut 
 into his flesh till the blood came, but 
 he did not let go. 
 
 At last the horse grew tired. He 
 stood still, quivering in all his limbs. 
 The foam flew from his mouth. 
 
 "What do you want with me?" he 
 79
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 said. "My flesh is not nice to eat and 
 my milk isn't sweet and I have no 
 wool for you to cut off." 
 
 "I want to borrow your four legs," 
 said Two-Legs. "You were boasting 
 of them yourself. Come up! Stand 
 still now! If you're good, I won't 
 hurt you." 
 
 He wound the rope round his arm 
 and came closer and closer. He 
 patted the sweating horse, then sud- 
 denly caught hold of his mane and 
 swung himself upon his back. The 
 horse reared and plunged and kicked 
 his hind-legs high in the air and tried, 
 in every way, to get rid of his rider. 
 But Two-Legs held on to the mane 
 and the rope with his hands and 
 gripped tight with his legs and kept 
 his seat for all the effort it cost him. 
 Gradually, the horse became quieter 
 
 80
 
 TWO-LEGS WANDERS 
 
 again and then Two-Legs patted 
 him on the neck: 
 
 "Now go after the cow!" he cried. 
 
 He pressed his heels into the horse's 
 flanks and gave him a smack. Then 
 they flew in a rousing gallop over the 
 meadow. The cow did not even at- 
 tempt to run away, but stood star- 
 ing in amazement at that wonderful 
 sight. Before she had collected her- 
 self, the sling was round her neck 
 and Two-Legs proudly rode home 
 with his capture. 
 
 When they reached the tent, he 
 sprang from the horse, patted him 
 and thanked him. But he made no 
 show of taking the noose from the 
 horse's neck. 
 
 "Won't you let me go?" asked the 
 horse. 
 
 "No," said Two-Legs. "But I'll do 
 
 81
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 better for you. You shall now drink 
 from the spring and then you shall 
 have the juiciest grass to eat that 
 you ever tasted. After that, you shall 
 lie down and reflect that you are now 
 in my service and that you can spend 
 the remainder of your days free of 
 all cares, without the very least anxi- 
 ety, if only you will be faithful and 
 willing and do the little bit of work 
 that I shall require of you." 
 
 He fed the horse and fastened him 
 to the door of the tent. The cow stood 
 tethered close by. 
 
 "Shall we see if we can get loose?" 
 whispered the horse, when night 
 came and Two-Legs was asleep. 
 
 "No," said the cow and shook her 
 head. "I sha'n't run away again. I 
 accept my lot. It was a terrible sight 
 to see him on your back. He is the 
 
 82
 
 TWO-LEGS WANDERS 
 
 master of us all. No one can resist 
 him." 
 
 But the sparrow flew round the for- 
 est on her swift wings: 
 
 "Two-Legs has caught the horse. 
 . . . He rides on his back. . . . He has 
 fastened him to his tent. . . . The horse 
 has become Two-Legs' servant." 
 
 "Have you heard the latest?" the 
 lioness asked her husband. "Do you 
 mean to let him ride on your back too, 
 when he goes hunting?" 
 
 The lion gave a threatening roar. 
 
 "He had better just try!" he said. 
 
 "He's too careful," answered the 
 lioness, with a sneer. "And you would 
 get out of his way, coward and de- 
 generate that you are!" 
 
 The lion laid his head on his paws 
 and said nothing, but brooded dark 
 thoughts. 
 
 83
 
 VII 
 
 TWO-LEGS SOWS 
 
 TWO-LEGS moved with his herd from 
 one meadow to the other. 
 
 The herd increased year by year, as 
 did his family. Mrs. Two-Legs had 
 now borne her husband seven sons 
 and seven daughters, who were all 
 doing well and helping in the house 
 and with the cattle. 
 
 And the animals were more and 
 more pleased to be in his service. 
 
 The horse carried him when he went 
 hunting and walked beside him when 
 he struck the tent and moved to a 
 new pasturage. He came at Two- 
 Legs' call and neither he nor any 
 
 84
 
 TWO-LEGS SOWS 
 
 other of the animals thought seri- 
 ously of running away, so that Trust 
 had an easy job in watching over 
 them. Now and then, they felt an 
 inclination for freedom, especially 
 when they were talking to the wild 
 animals. But it went no further than 
 the inclination. 
 
 For instance, one night in the rainy 
 season, the stag came to the tent 
 vhich Two-Legs had put up to pro- 
 tect his animals. 
 
 "Well, you're nice and dry here," 
 said the stag and looked enviously 
 into the tent. 
 
 "You're right," replied the sheep. 
 "It is really much better than in the 
 old days, when we used to take shel- 
 ter under a tree and get drenched all 
 the same." 
 
 "Just so," said the cow. "And in 
 
 85
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 the dry season too it was pleasant to 
 get our good food every day, which 
 Two-Legs had stored up for us, in- 
 stead of having to go all over the 
 country, as before, in search of a 
 blade of grass." 
 
 "But I thought you had to work 
 for it," said the stag. "I have often 
 seen you drudging and toiling for 
 your master." 
 
 "One good turn deserves another," 
 said the horse. "For the rest, I can't 
 deny that my presentiments have 
 been fulfilled. All my limbs hurt me 
 terribly after the day's work." 
 
 "And so do ours," said the ox and 
 the cow. 
 
 The duck, the goose and the hen 
 agreed. But the sheep, shook her fat 
 head, while she went on chewing the 
 cud: 
 
 86
 
 TWO-LEGS SOWS 
 
 "I can't remember what sort of 
 presentiment I had," she said. "I am 
 well off as I am." 
 
 "Are you grumbling?" asked Trust, 
 who was keeping watch and never 
 slept with more than one eye shut. 
 "Shall I call the master?" 
 
 The stag took fright and ran away. 
 But the horse said : 
 
 "No, do nothing of the sort. He has 
 worked hard himself to-day and is no 
 doubt as tired as we are. It would be 
 a shame to wake him." 
 
 Then it grew still in the tent. 
 
 But Two-Legs was not asleep in his 
 own tent. 
 
 On the contrary, he was wide awake, 
 thinking over things, and his wife 
 could not sleep either, for she was 
 thinking too. 
 
 "I am sick of wandering about the 
 87
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 country," he said, at last. "We are 
 no longer young, we have a very 
 large family and sometimes the work 
 makes me very tired." 
 
 "Me too," said Mrs. Two-Legs. 
 "But that has nothing to do with it. 
 We are obliged to move about to get 
 the grass we want." 
 
 Two-Legs said nothing, for the mo- 
 ment. 
 
 He rose and went out into the 
 rain, had a look at his animals and 
 then came back again and sat down 
 in his old place. The lion was roar- 
 ing outside in the meadow. 
 
 "Do you hear him?" asked Mrs. 
 Two-Legs. 
 
 Two-Legs nodded. 
 
 "Tell me," he said, after a while, 
 "where does the grass come from?" 
 
 "You know as well as I do," she 
 
 88
 
 TWO-LEGS SOWS 
 
 said. "We have often talked of how 
 it scatters its seed and how the seed 
 shoots up between the old withered 
 blades when the rain comes." 
 
 "Quite right," said Two - Legs. 
 "And why shouldn't we collect the 
 seed and sow it ourselves? Now, if 
 we pull up all the old grass and take 
 the seed of the kind which our ani- 
 mais like best, we ought to be able 
 to make it grow much thicker. And 
 then we could reap the seed again 
 and sow it again and go on living in 
 the same place year after year." 
 
 "Oh, if we could only do that!" 
 cried Mrs. Two-Legs and clapped 
 her hands. 
 
 "Why not?" said Two-Legs. "And, 
 if we succeed in this, then we can 
 build a proper, solid house for our- 
 selves and our animals. I am sure 
 
 89
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 that we can fell the biggest trees 
 with our flint axes, if only we have 
 patience and persevere. As soon as 
 the rain stops, I shall go out and look 
 for a place where we can settle down 
 for the rest of our days." 
 
 A week later, the sky was clear 
 again. Two-Legs mounted his horse, 
 took leave of his family and said that 
 he would not come home before he 
 had found what he sought. He did 
 not return till the evening of the 
 third day and ordered them to pack 
 up early next morning and go with 
 him. 
 
 When they came to the place, they 
 had to admit that he had made a good 
 choice. 
 
 It was easy to see that the ground 
 was good and fertile: everything 
 around grew so fresh and luxuriant. 
 
 90
 
 TWO-LEGS SOWS 
 
 There was a large, open field and on 
 one side of it was the forest, on the 
 other a meadow which, in its turn, 
 ran down to a great lake, where fish 
 leapt and played. Beyond the lake 
 were the distant blue mountains, 
 which were beautiful to look at and 
 to dream of. Just at the edge of the 
 forest lay a hill, at whose foot a 
 brook flowed. The brook ran into the 
 river, which wound through the 
 meadow, and the river ran into the 
 lake. 
 
 And the field and the meadow were 
 full of all kinds of grass and flowers. 
 There were poppies larger and red- 
 der than Two-Legs had ever seen. 
 And there were bluebells and car- 
 rots, convolvuluses and corn-flowers, 
 thistles and docks and violets and 
 many, many flowers. They grew and 
 91
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 spread themselves as they pleased, 
 for they themselves were the lords of 
 the land. 
 
 "This is where we shall settle," said 
 Two-Legs. "We shall build a big, 
 strong house on the hill, with stables 
 for our animals and a palisade out- 
 side to keep off those who wish us 
 harm. Let us start without delay. 
 You'll see something, once the house 
 is there!" 
 
 He and his sons set to work at once 
 felling trees. 
 
 They laboured patiently day after 
 day; but they had to chop hard with 
 their stone axes before the big trees 
 gave way. A great cry of dismay 
 rose up from tree to tree, far into 
 the forest: 
 
 "What is happening? . . . What 
 does he want with us? ... Why 
 
 92
 
 TWO-LEGS SOWS 
 
 must we die?" whispered the trees to 
 one another. 
 
 But Two-Legs and his sons heard 
 nothing and saw nothing. They 
 worked and worked till they had 
 what they wanted. And then they 
 built a strong wooden house on the 
 hill, built two houses, three houses: 
 one far themselves, a stable for the 
 animals and a long, big house for 
 which Two-Legs had a purpose of 
 which he did not speak for the pres- 
 ent. 
 
 They closed up all the chinks with 
 moss. And round the whole farm 
 they built a palisade of tall stakes 
 and woven twigs, which made a good 
 wall to protect them against their 
 enemies. 
 
 "That's that," said Two-Legs. 
 "Now to work." 
 
 93
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 He told his wife to sew a leather 
 bag for himself and one for each of 
 the family. Then they went to the 
 field and the meadow and filled their 
 bags with seed of every sort of grass 
 that they wanted to sow. 
 
 "Won't you have a few of my 
 seeds?" asked the poppy, shedding 
 her scarlet petals. "I have thousands 
 of them in my head and I am the 
 prettiest in the land." 
 
 "You may be pretty," said Two- 
 Legs, "but I have no use for you." 
 
 "You've passed me by," said the vio- 
 let, modestly. 
 
 "You're very sweet," said Two- 
 Legs, "but you're not of any use 
 to me." 
 
 "You're forgetting me," cried the 
 thistle. "I am the proudest and 
 strongest in the whole meadow." 
 
 94
 
 TWO-LEGS SOWS 
 
 "But I am the toughest," cried the 
 dock. 
 
 "Mind you take none of their seed," 
 said Two-Legs to his family. "Our 
 animals don't eat them." 
 
 So they went home with full bags 
 and out and home again, until they 
 had heaped up a mighty store. 
 
 "Now we will prepare the ground," 
 said Two-Legs. "Come, little horse, 
 and lend me your strength, as you 
 have done before." 
 
 He made a plough, harnessed the 
 horse to it and drove it across the 
 field, step by step and furrow after 
 furrow. He rejoiced when he saw the 
 earth turn under the stone blades of 
 the plough. 
 
 "What's the meaning of this?" 
 said the poppy and was forthwith 
 ploughed over. 
 
 95
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 "It's no use," cried the thistle. "Our 
 seed will come up and tease you." 
 
 "We'll see about that," said Two- 
 Legs. 
 
 Then he told his family to cut off 
 all the thistles and throw them away. 
 And, when he had ploughed as much 
 as he pleased, he took the grass-seed 
 which they had gathered and sowed it 
 in the good, fresh earth. 
 
 "Now we must wait for the rain," 
 he said, "and see how things go." 
 
 And the rainy season came and 
 things went as Two-Legs had hoped. 
 
 Little green shoots sprouted all 
 over the ploughed field, all alike, all 
 grass of the kind which the animals 
 loved. Here and there, it is true, a 
 thistle appeared and a poppy, but 
 most of it was good grass. 
 
 "Look!" said Two-Legs, gladly. 
 
 96
 
 TWO-LEGS SOWS 
 
 "Now we only want the sunshine and 
 then it will grow." 
 
 The sun came and the whole field 
 was a lovely green carpet that grew 
 so that one could see it grow from 
 day to day. 
 
 One morning, the stag came to the 
 edge of the forest and beheld all this 
 with amazement. Then he shouted 
 into the forest to his family: 
 
 "Come here! Here's the finest field 
 of grass you've ever seen in your 
 lives! Hurry up and come! I've 
 started grazing already." 
 
 "You've started grazing, have 
 you?" cried Two-Legs and came 
 rushing up with his spear. "Out of 
 this, you thief! Do you imagine that I 
 have sown corn in the sweat of my 
 brow for you to eat? Get out of it! 
 This field belongs to mel" 
 97
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 The stag fled as fast as he could 
 into the forest. But the sparrow flew 
 round and told the news on every 
 hand: 
 
 "Two-Legs has taken a great piece 
 of land which no one is allowed to 
 touch. He called the stag a thief 
 when he tried to graze on itl" 
 
 98
 
 VIII 
 
 TWO-LEGS ENJOYS LIFE 
 
 WHEN the time came, Two-Legs 
 filled the house which he had built 
 for a barn with the produce of his 
 field. And the harvest was hardly 
 gathered before he began to think of 
 next year. 
 
 He ploughed a new field and an- 
 other and sowed them. The year 
 after, he cleared a part of the forest 
 and tilled that. 
 
 And so he went on, year by year, 
 until he had cultivated the land as 
 far as he could see from his house on 
 the hill. 
 
 Round the house he had planted a 
 
 99
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 garden with the fruit-trees and herbs 
 which he had a use for. The fields lay 
 in long, even strips, each with its 
 own sort of grass or corn. The whole 
 was fenced in and Two-Legs was 
 hard upon any who destroyed his 
 work or stole his property. 
 
 It looked as though he were the 
 lord of the earth. No one dared set 
 himself up against him. His herd in- 
 creased from day to day and the wild 
 animals fled far away as soon as they 
 saw a sign of him or his. In the 
 depths of the forest, however, and 
 under cover of the darkness and 
 whenever they felt safe from him, 
 they talked of the old days when 
 they themselves were the masters, of 
 the shame that it was that he should 
 subjugate them so and of their hopes 
 of better times. 
 
 100
 
 TWO-LEGS ENJOYS LIFE 
 
 "He throws stones at a poor bird 
 that picks a grain of corn in his 
 field," said the sparrow. 
 
 "Yesterday he drove me out of the 
 hazel-hedge round his garden," said 
 the squirrel. 
 
 "He shot an arrow into my left 
 wing because I took a lamb," said 
 the eagle. 
 
 "He has driven me right out of the 
 forest," said the wolf. "He told me 
 that all the game belonged to him 
 and that, if I dared touch it, he 
 would persecute me and my cubs to 
 the ends of the earth, if need be." 
 
 "Perhaps he'll take it into his head 
 to-morrow to say that all the mead- 
 ows are his," cried the stag. "And 
 where are we to graze then?" 
 
 The thistle, the poppy and the 
 bluebell pressed close against the 
 101
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 hedge. The violet hid herself in the 
 ditch. And the stinging-nettle stood 
 gloomily and angrily outside Two- 
 Legs' garden-fence. 
 
 "Are we any better oif ?" asked the 
 thistle. "We have been driven from 
 home and have to sit here against the 
 hedge and look on while the silly 
 grass spreads all over the field. We 
 are at his mercy; he can take our 
 lives any day he pleases." 
 
 "He has planted some of my sisters 
 in his garden," said the violet. 
 
 "And some of mine," said the pop- 
 py. "But that's not liberty." 
 
 "Prick him, Thistle!" said the tall 
 oak. 
 
 "I did and he struck me with his 
 stick," replied the thistle. 
 
 "Sting him, Nettle!" said the oak. 
 
 "I did," said the nettle, "and I came 
 off no better than the thistle." 
 102
 
 TWO-LEGS ENJOYS LIFE 
 
 In the corn, however, a glad whis- 
 per ran from one end of the field to 
 the other: 
 
 "It is we ... it is we ... it is we 
 ... it is we that reign in the land 
 now. . . . We are good. . . . We 
 are useful. . . . You others are no- 
 thing but weeds." 
 
 "Hear them, the cowardly dogs!" 
 said the thistle. 
 
 "We can do nothing," said the blue- 
 bell. "But why don't you big trees 
 fall down on him and crush him and 
 his brood?" 
 
 "That's a ticklish matter, falling 
 down," said the oak. "But have we 
 not a king in the forest to protect 
 us? Where is the lion?" 
 
 "Yes, the lion. . . . Where is the 
 lion?" they all cried. 
 
 But the lion was not there and did 
 not come. 
 
 103
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 Two-Legs sat at home in his gar- 
 den, under a big apple-tree, sur- 
 rounded by all his family. 
 
 He cast his eyes over his fields, on 
 which the corn waved, and up into 
 the apple-tree, which hung full of 
 delicious, yellow fruit. One of his 
 sons had just come back from the 
 lake with a couple of big fish. An- 
 other was hunting in the forest: now 
 they heard his call and he stood at 
 the edge of the wood with a fat roe- 
 buck over his shoulders. 
 
 A third was busy making a plough : 
 he wanted to improve upon the old 
 one. And all the rest were working 
 at one thing or another. The girls 
 were busy in the kitchen or turning 
 the mill-wheel. 
 
 "We have had luck on our side," 
 said Two-Legs to his wife. "Every- 
 
 104
 
 TWO-LEGS ENJOYS LIFE 
 
 thing thrives and grows under our 
 hands. And our children will do bet- 
 ter than we and their children better 
 still. ... I hardly dare picture the 
 might and glory which our race may 
 yet achieve." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Two -Legs. 
 "Things are going well with us. 
 HelD me to remember to strew a lit- 
 tle corn for the sparrows, when the 
 bad time comes." 
 
 "I sha'n't forget," said he. "We 
 have such plenty now, that we can 
 afford to give these little thieves a 
 helping hand. And I like to hear 
 them twittering when I get up in the 
 morning." 
 
 105
 
 IX 
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS TAKE COUNSEL 
 
 THE complaints of the wild animals 
 increased daily. 
 
 "One no longer knows what one 
 dare do and what not," said the mole. 
 "Yesterday, my cousin was throwing 
 up earth, as our family have done 
 ever since they existed. At that mo- 
 ment, he was caught and killed by 
 one of Two-Legs' sons, because the 
 mole-hill appeared in the middle of 
 one of his flower-beds." 
 
 "His daughter killed my wife, be- 
 cause she thought her ugly," said a 
 young spider. "Not that my wife 
 was nice to me. She wanted to eat 
 
 106
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS TAKE COUNSEL 
 
 me immediately after the wedding 
 and I had a narrow escape. But, 
 apart from that, she was the most 
 inoffensive person under the sun and 
 really never hurt a soul. Except the 
 flies, of course." 
 
 "He took away my wife and plant- 
 ed her in his garden," said the hop- 
 vine. 
 
 "And he throws me out if I show 
 the least, tiny green shoot," said the 
 gout-weed. 
 
 "He shuts us up in hives," said the 
 bee. 
 
 "He hunts us by clapping his hands 
 together and hitting us with cloths," 
 said the moth. 
 
 "He locks us up and fattens us and 
 eats us," grunted the pig. 
 
 "He sets traps for us if we try to 
 get a morsel of food," said the mouse. 
 
 107
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 "He is the master of us all," said 
 the stag. "We have no one to com- 
 plain to. We have no king. The lion 
 is no longer the ruler of the forest. 
 He kills us with his claws when he 
 is hungry, but he makes no attempt 
 to defend us." 
 
 While they were talking, the lioness 
 came slowly up and stood in their 
 midst. They sprang up in alarm, but 
 she lay down quietly and said: 
 
 "Do not be afraid of me. I sha'n't 
 hurt you. I have hardly eaten a 
 mouthful this last week for grief. 
 The same cares oppress me as your- 
 selves. And it is worse for me, be- 
 cause my husband ought to have pro- 
 tected us against these strangers and 
 doesn't. The disgrace, for that mat- 
 ter, concerns me personally." 
 
 "The lion must help us! The lion 
 
 108
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS TAKE COUNSEL 
 
 must set us free!" they all cried to- 
 gether. 
 
 "The lion does nothing," said the 
 lioness sadly. "He lies at home in our 
 lair, staring and staring before him. 
 But now listen to what I have to 
 say." 
 
 They all gathered round and lis- 
 tened. 
 
 "We are all concerned," she said. 
 "Each one of us, without exception. 
 I have taken in all that I have heard 
 and seen of Two-Legs and I know 
 his character and his plans as though 
 he had confided them to me. He 
 wants to subdue the whole earth. He 
 and his children intend to reign over 
 us all, whether we submit or not." 
 
 "That is true!" cried the animals. 
 
 "Yes, that is true," continued the 
 lioness. "Let none feel safe! The 
 
 109
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 most powerful animal and the tallest 
 tree: if he have not laid them low to- 
 day, their turn will come to-morrow. 
 The lowest vermin and the sorriest 
 weed: they know not on what day 
 he may need them nor when they are 
 in his way; and then their last hour 
 has struck." 
 
 "Yes, yes!" they cried. 
 
 The mighty oak waved his gnarled 
 boughs in assent, the stag sorrow- 
 fully drooped his antlers, the worm 
 whispered his "Yes!" in the earth 
 and the bees shook with fear. 
 
 "Yes," said the lioness. "To him we 
 are either useful or injurious. If he 
 thinks a flower pretty, he fences her 
 in; if her scent offends his nostrils, 
 he tramples her underfoot. If a tree 
 stands where he can sleep in its 
 shade, he lets it grow. If it stands 
 no
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS TAKE COUNSEL 
 
 in his way or if he has a use for its 
 wood, he chops it down. If he is able 
 to use an animal, he catches him and 
 makes him his slave. He dresses him- 
 self in his skin, eats his flesh, lets him 
 do his work. He does not stop when 
 he has had his fill, as we do. Greedy 
 as ne is, he catches animals and gath- 
 ers fruit for many days, so that he 
 may never suffer want." 
 
 "That's so, that's so!" cried the ani- 
 mals, in chorus. 
 
 "Wait a bit!" continued the lioness. 
 "There is more to come. He does not 
 hunt fair, like ourselves. He does 
 not go after his prey on his own legs. 
 He rides at it on the back of the 
 horse, whom he has compelled to 
 carry him. He does not catch it with 
 his claws, does not kill it with his 
 teeth : he has a curious weapon, which 
 ill
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 flies through the air and brings death 
 to whomsoever it strikes." 
 
 "We all know it!" cried the stag. 
 
 "It has whistled past my ear!" said 
 the wolf. 
 
 "It hit my wing!" said the eagle. 
 
 "He does not drink the blood as we 
 do, does not eat the meat as we do," 
 continued the lioness. "He roasts it 
 at the fire; he always has fire in his 
 hut. He has done violence to nature: 
 we knew fire only when the lightning 
 struck an old tree and set it alight; 
 he strikes two stones against each 
 other till the sparks come or rubs 
 two pieces of rotten wood till they 
 catch flame." 
 
 "True, true!" cried the animals. 
 "He has subdued fire." 
 
 "He does not pluck the fruits in the 
 forest when they are ripe," said the 
 112
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS TAKE COUNSEL 
 
 lioness. ''He cultivates the plants for 
 which he has a use and roots out the 
 others. Give him a free hand and he 
 will transform the whole earth. No 
 herbs will be let grow but those which 
 he can employ. No animals will be 
 let live but those which serve his use 
 or pleasure. If we want to remain 
 alive, we must become his servants." 
 
 "Hear, hear!" cried the animals. 
 
 The lioness paused and all was still. 
 They heard Trust bark a long way 
 off. 
 
 "Listen to the dog," said the lioness. 
 "His first servant. Now he helps him 
 watch over the others." 
 
 "The dog has betrayed us! Let us 
 kill the dog!" they cried. 
 
 The lioness raised her paw and si- 
 lence prevailed again. Then she con- 
 tinued : 
 
 113
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 "Do you remember the night when 
 we met here in this same meadow, 
 when the new animals had just ar- 
 rived? There were some who warned 
 us: they were the horse and the ox 
 and the sheep; the goose and the 
 duck agreed with them: now they 
 are all his subjects. Their presenti- 
 ments did not deceive them. But do 
 you not remember how the two new 
 animals looked when they lay here 
 asleep? A couple of poor, naked 
 wretches: we could have killed them 
 without trouble, had we wished." 
 
 "We could! We could!" cried the 
 animals. 
 
 "But we didn't!" said the lioness. 
 "And now they are the lords of the 
 forest. Do you know whence their 
 power comes? It comes from the ani- 
 mals whom they have subdued. If we 
 
 114
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS TAKE COUNSEL 
 
 could take those animals from them, 
 then they would be just as poor and 
 helpless as before. Two-Legs' power 
 consists in this, that he can make 
 others work for him. If, therefore, 
 you take my advice, you will try to 
 get his servants away from him. I 
 propose that we send some one who 
 will endeavour to talk them into their 
 senses. Surely, we have only to ap- 
 peal to their sense of honour and to 
 remind them of the days when they 
 wandered at liberty in the forest! 
 Who will undertake the mission?" 
 
 "Do you go yourself I" they all 
 cried. 
 
 "No," said the lioness. "I had bet- 
 ter not. It would not be wise. There 
 is blood between their race and mine. 
 They might remember this ; and then 
 my words would be in vain. It should 
 
 115
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 be one from whom they have never 
 had anything to fear." 
 
 They discussed the matter for some 
 time and then it was resolved that 
 the fox should be the emissary. He 
 was at odds, it was true, from the old 
 days, with the goose and the duck 
 and the hen; but there was no one 
 better at hand. 
 
 And so he sneaked off: none knew 
 so well the shortest and most secret 
 paths in the forest. He promised to 
 bring back an answer as quickly as 
 possible. The animals lay down to 
 rest in the meadow and whispered 
 together. In the midst of the circle 
 lay the lioness and stared silently be- 
 fore her with shame and wrath in 
 her eyes. 
 
 When the fox reached Two-Legs' 
 house, he met Trust, who was going 
 
 116
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS TAKE COUNSEL 
 
 his night rounds to see if there were 
 any foes about. 
 
 "Good-evening, cousin," said the 
 fox, slyly. "Out so late?" 
 
 "I might say the same to you," re- 
 plied Trust. "I am keeping watch 
 for my master. You're hardly out on 
 so lawful an errand." 
 
 "I have no master, certainly," said 
 the fox. "And it's not so long since 
 you yourself were a free dog in the 
 forest. You ought to become so again. 
 Come down with me to the meadow. 
 The other animals are gathered there. 
 They will forgive you for entering 
 Two-Legs' service and look upon 
 you as the good dog that you were, if 
 you will open the door so that the 
 captive animals may escape." 
 
 "There are no captive animals 
 here," said the dog. "We are all well 
 
 117
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 off and we wish for no change. If 
 I am Two-Legs' servant, I am also 
 his friend. So run away back as quick 
 as you can to those who sent you." 
 
 With that, the dog turned his back 
 on the fox and went in through the 
 little hole that was left in the fence 
 for his use. But the fox stood wait- 
 ing a while, to see if none of the 
 others appeared. And it was not 
 long before a fine gosling stuck her 
 head through the hole. 
 
 "Good-evening, little missie!" said 
 the fox. "Please come a little closer." 
 
 "I dare not," said the gosling. "I 
 am not allowed out at night. And I 
 should so awfully like to get away. 
 I am so frightened of Two-Legs. 
 He roasted my mother the other day 
 and ate her." 
 
 "Shocking!" exclaimed the fox. 
 
 118
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS TAKE COUNSEL 
 
 "You mustn't stay a moment longer 
 in this murderer's den. Come out to 
 me and I will take you to a place 
 where you will have nothing to fear." 
 
 "If only I dared trust you!" said 
 the gosling. "But I have ten sisters. 
 I can't leave them in the lurch." 
 
 "I don't think you had better wake 
 them to-night," said the fox. "Young 
 ladies are so talkative and, if the dog 
 or Two-Legs discovered your flight, 
 it would be all up with us. You would 
 be roasted forthwith and I should 
 come in for a certain unpleasantness 
 too: that goes without saying." 
 
 "That is true," said the gosling. 
 "But will you promise me to fetch 
 my sisters another time?" 
 
 "I give you my word that, from to- 
 day, I will come every night and 
 fetch one of the young ladies, until 
 
 119
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 they are all rescued," said the fox. 
 "That is, as far as lies in my power. 
 There may be obstacles." 
 
 "How kind you are!" whispered the 
 gosling. "And I who thought that 
 the wild animals were such terrible 
 monsters! That's what I have always 
 been told. They said I must be par- 
 ticularly careful not to go into the 
 forest, lest the worst of evils should 
 befall me." 
 
 "Sheer calumny!" said the fox. 
 "All the animals in the forest are 
 angels. I have never once heard of 
 any one being roasted there. But 
 come now, before we are perceived." 
 
 "I'm coming!" said the gosling. 
 
 She waddled through the hole and, 
 that very instant, felt the fox's teeth 
 in her throat. She was just able to 
 give a scream and then she was done 
 
 120
 
 THE OLD ANIMALS TAKE COUNSEL 
 
 for. But, the next moment, Trust 
 was there. The fox let go the gosling 
 and struck out with his teeth as best 
 he could. But he was the weaker and 
 the dog gave no quarter. Not until 
 the fox lay dead on the ground 
 did Trust go back through his hole 
 again. 
 
 Meanwhile, the animals were lying 
 in the meadow and waiting. 
 
 "The fox has played us false," said 
 the stag. 
 
 "Of course, he has been caught and 
 is entering Two-Legs' service like 
 the rest," said the nightingale. 
 
 But, at daybreak, the sparrow 
 came flying up, breathlessly. 
 
 "The fox is dead!" she said. "He 
 is lying on the hill outside Two-Legs' 
 house. I saw him myself. There's a 
 dead goose lying beside him." 
 121
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 Then the lioness rose and all the 
 other animals with her. 
 
 "The fox went on his own busi- 
 ness," she said. "He fell in his own 
 hunting. We can trust nobody now." 
 
 Then, with bowed head, she went 
 slowly home. 
 
 122
 
 X 
 
 THE LION 
 
 IT was one night, some days after 
 the animals had held their meeting 
 in the meadow. 
 
 The lion lay in his lair, as was his 
 custom, and stared with his yellow 
 eyes. His spouse was sleeping or pre- 
 tending to sleep. At every moment, 
 she heaved a deep sigh. All was still 
 in the forest. 
 
 The lion knew well what his con- 
 sort's sighing meant. He knew what 
 the animals had talked of that day 
 and all the other days in the forest. 
 Not one of their complaints was un- 
 known to him; not one of the taunts 
 123
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 uttered against him had escaped his 
 ears. Not for a moment had he been 
 in doubt as to the feeling in the for- 
 est towards the king of beasts. 
 
 Nor had he forgotten which of the 
 animals had spoken of him most 
 slightingly. He had imprinted the 
 names of more than one on his mem- 
 ory and he would know how to be 
 even with them when the time came 
 and order was restored in the forest. 
 Every day, he had to bear his con- 
 sort's gibes, but he no longer heeded 
 them. She would have to beg his par- 
 don and yield him her love and admi- 
 ration once again. His children would 
 honour him, as they had honoured 
 him before and even more. He 
 would be remembered in the history 
 of the forest as the monarch in whose 
 reign the kingdom had incurred a 
 
 124
 
 THE LION 
 
 great danger and misfortune, which 
 he had finally overcome. 
 
 The lion rose and went slowly 
 through the forest. 
 
 "The king of beasts is out hunt- 
 ing," said the hedgehog, creeping un- 
 der the bushes. 
 
 "See how thin he is," said the bat. 
 "His skin is hanging loose on his 
 bones." 
 
 "It is many nights since he went 
 hunting," said the owl. "His eyes 
 are glaring with hunger." 
 
 But the king of the forest was not 
 thinking of hunting. He went, as 
 though in a dream, in the direction 
 of Two-Legs' house. A deer darted 
 across his path and he did not see 
 her. Slowly he went on until he came 
 to the open space where Two-Legs' 
 house stood on the hill. 
 
 125
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 He went straight up to it, leapt 
 quickly over the hedge and lay down 
 in some bushes that grew at the door. 
 He there lay concealed. No one 
 could see him: only his yellow eyes 
 gleamed through the leaves. And 
 one bound would bring him to the 
 door. 
 
 Two - Legs slept restlessly that 
 night. 
 
 He tossed about on his bed of skins 
 and, when at last he fell asleep, Trust 
 began to bark so loudly that he had 
 to get up and see what was hap- 
 pening. He had closed up the hole 
 through which Trust used to get out, 
 because the goose had lately escaped 
 that way and fallen a prey to the 
 fox. 
 
 "What is it, Trust?" he asked. 
 
 The dog kept on barking and leapt 
 
 126
 
 THE LION 
 
 up against him. Two-Legs opened a 
 little shutter and looked out and lis- 
 tened. But there was nothing to see. 
 Then he told the dog to lie down and 
 went back again to bed. But now he 
 heard the horse kicking in the stable 
 and the ox began to low and the poul- 
 try to cackle. There was no hearing a 
 word for the noise. He had to go out 
 again and found all the animals shak- 
 ing, as though greatly frightened. 
 The horse stood in a violent sweat and 
 the hens and ducks and geese fluttered 
 restlessly round in their roost. 
 
 "What can it be?" he said. 
 
 He opened the door and stepped 
 out into the night, unarmed and 
 naked, as he had risen from his bed. 
 At that moment, there was a rustling 
 in the bushes. The lion sprang for- 
 wards, but Two-Legs just had time 
 
 127
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 to enter the house and bolt the door 
 behind him. 
 
 He stood for a moment in great 
 alarm and did not know what to do. 
 
 Through a little hole in the door, 
 he saw the lion lying outside in the 
 bushes, with his eyes fixed on the 
 door, ready to leap. The yellow eyes 
 glittered with rage. Two-Legs un- 
 derstood that the fight was now 
 to come that had been so long de- 
 layed. 
 
 He thought first of waking his sons, 
 slipping out through the other door 
 and attacking the lion in the rear. 
 But they slept in different parts of 
 the house and the day was already 
 breaking in the east and, while he was 
 gone to fetch them, one of the family 
 might easily go out and fall a prey 
 to the king of the forest. 
 
 128
 
 THE LION 
 
 While he stood and reflected, his 
 fear left him. 
 
 He considered that he was man 
 enough to kill his foe unaided. He 
 silently took the best two of his 
 spears, carefully felt their edges, 
 drew a deep breath and then opened 
 the door. 
 
 The lion was not there. 
 
 Two-Legs looked from one side to. 
 the other and could not discover him. 
 But he was an old and experienced 
 hunter and did not doubt but that 
 the lion was lurking in ambush. So 
 he stood quietly in the doorway, with 
 every muscle taut, ready for the fight 
 that must come. 
 
 Then he heard a soft rustling in the 
 bushes and, at that moment, saw the 
 animal's eyes there among the leaves. 
 He knew that there was no time 
 
 129
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 to lose : if the lion sprang first, it was 
 too late. 
 
 He flung one of his spears and 
 struck the lion in the eye. The lion 
 uttered a roar of rage and then the 
 other spear pierced his heart. 
 
 All the inmates of the house were 
 now out of bed and came running up. 
 
 There lay the dead lion, a great and 
 splendid sight. Trust barked at him 
 and wanted to bite him, but Two- 
 Legs drove him away: 
 
 "After all," he said, "he was the 
 king of the forest. But now let it be 
 declared all over the earth that he is 
 dead and that the realm is mine." 
 
 Then they stripped the lion's hide 
 and hung it on a tall pole, which they 
 set up in the middle of the field, so 
 that it could be seen from far and 
 wide. 
 
 130
 
 THE LION 
 
 "The lion is slain!" cried the spar- 
 row from door to door. "Two-Legs 
 has murdered the king of the forest. 
 His skin is hanging on a pole out- 
 side the house: I saw it myself." 
 
 Then all crowded up and saw it. 
 From the edge of the forest, full of 
 fear they peeped at Two-Legs' house 
 and the birds stared down from the 
 sky. 
 
 "Now all is over," said the stag. 
 
 And so it was. 
 
 But, in the course of that day, the 
 orang-outang came to Two-Legs, 
 who was sitting outside his house. 
 
 "Good-day, cousin," said the orang- 
 outang. 
 
 Two-Legs looked at him, without 
 answering. 
 
 "Ah, you may have heard," said 
 the orang-outang, "that I have spo- 
 
 131
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 ken ill of you. I will not deny that 
 I have been a little careless in my 
 talk. But you yourself know, when 
 one meets with poor relations, one is 
 afraid of hangers-on. One has child- 
 ren of one's own and it is not easy to 
 make both ends meet in these hard 
 times. Besides, you once caught me a 
 blow with your stick; so we can cry 
 quits." 
 
 "What do you want?" asked Two- 
 Legs. "I have neither time nor in- 
 clination to listen to your drivel." 
 
 "Now don't be hasty, cousin," said 
 the orang-outang and sat down be- 
 side him. "I acknowledge your suc- 
 cess. You have been lucky. It does 
 not enter my head to deny your abil- 
 ity. You have managed things splen- 
 didly. That little business with the 
 horse was really very smartly done. 
 
 132
 
 THE LION 
 
 And, now that you have outwitted 
 the lion . . ." 
 
 "What do you want, you ill-omened 
 brute?" said Two-Legs. 
 
 "I want to join forces with you, 
 cousin," said the orang-outang. "We 
 two as partners ought to conquer the 
 world." 
 
 "Are you mad?" said Two-Legs. 
 "What should I do with such a ridicu- 
 lous, stupid beast as you? You're no 
 more use to me than a pigeon. Away 
 with you! Or else I'll give you a 
 thrashing which you won't forget in 
 a hurry." 
 
 The orang-outang retreated a few 
 paces, but did not give up the game: 
 
 "You should think it over, all the 
 same, cousin," he said. "However 
 clever you may be, I can be of use 
 to you still. I should be a good inter- 
 
 133
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 mediary between you and the ani- 
 mals. I can do things that you can't; 
 and what I can't do I can easily 
 learn. Up in the apple-tree where I 
 sat, I have watched you and stud- 
 ied the way you went about your 
 field; and I ha^e already picked up 
 many of your tricks. You must know 
 that . . ." 
 
 Two-Legs stood up and caught the 
 orang-outang by the arm: 
 
 "Come outside!" he shouted into the 
 house. "I want to show you some- 
 thing!" 
 
 They all came out and stared at the 
 ape. 
 
 "This fellow wants to go into part- 
 nership with me," said Two-Legs. 
 "He's not reasonable. He says he has 
 already learnt my tricks. Let's put 
 him in a cage; then we can amuse 
 
 134
 
 THE LION 
 
 ourselves with his tricks, when it's 
 raining." 
 
 The orang-outang protested, but to 
 no purpose. Two-Legs held him tight 
 and soon they had built a cage and 
 put him into it. 
 
 "There's none like one's own people 
 for meanness!" said the orang-ou- 
 tang, as he sat on the floor of his cage p 
 catching his fleas. 
 
 135
 
 XI 
 
 MANY YEARS AFTER 
 
 IT was many, many years after. 
 
 And it was not in the forest in the 
 warm lands, where the sun shines 
 stronger than here and the rain falls 
 closer and all animals and all plants 
 thrive better, because the winter does 
 not stunt their growth. 
 
 It was in a large village out in Jut- 
 land. 
 
 It was fair-time and the village was 
 full of people and cattle. On every 
 side stood booths with wooden shoes 
 and tin goods, cakes and toys and all 
 sorts of wares. There were refresh- 
 ment-tents and a dancing-hall. There 
 
 136
 
 MANY YEARS AFTER 
 
 was a great peep-show, there were 
 two merry-go-rounds, there was a 
 place where the fattest lady in the 
 world was exhibited. In another 
 place, for twopence, you could see 
 a tiny little dwarf. Then there were 
 white mice and performing fleas, 
 numbers of barrel-organs, all play- 
 ing at one time, so that you could 
 hardly hear yourself speak for the 
 din, and drunken peasants and boys 
 playing practical jokes. 
 
 But the most remarkable thing of 
 all was hidden in a large tent in the 
 middle of the market-place. This also 
 could be seen for twopence; and, if 
 you wished to know what it was, you 
 had only to listen to the man who 
 stood outside and shouted in his 
 hoarse voice : 
 
 "Walk up, ladies and gentlemen, 
 
 137
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 walk up! Only twopence for grown- 
 ups, children half-price ! Here's some- 
 thing that's never been exhibited in 
 this village before, but that's ap- 
 peared before all the kings and royal 
 families in the world. It's a king him- 
 self that I have the honour of intro- 
 ducing to you: the king of beasts, 
 ladies and gentlemen, the terrible 
 lion! He lives in darkest Africa and 
 is so powerful that he can kill an ox 
 with one blow of his paw. He has 
 two lambs for his breakfast every 
 morning. If he were to escape from 
 his cage, he would do away with you 
 all in less than no time. But you need 
 have no fear, ladies and gentlemen! 
 The lion is in his cage behind thick 
 iron bars. There he stands and glares 
 in his bloodthirsty way, at twopence 
 for grown-ups, children half-price! 
 
 138
 
 MANY YEARS AFTER 
 
 Walk up, ladies and gentlemen! 
 Hurry up, before it's too late! Never 
 again, in all your lives, will you see 
 half so fine a sight at so cheap a 
 price!" 
 
 He shouted like this all the time. A 
 crowd of people stood outside the tent 
 staring. Many went in. When they 
 came out, they told the bystanders 
 about the lion inside. Then more went 
 in and so it continued all day long. 
 
 The lion's cage stood at the back of 
 the tent. 
 
 It was a low and dirty cage. On the 
 floor lay some filthy straw and a few 
 bones. The side turned to the spec- 
 tators consisted of thick, rusty iron 
 bars. In the furthermost corner lay 
 the lion, with his head resting on his 
 paws. His yellow eyes stared with a 
 dull expression at the public. There 
 139
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 was straw in his tangled mane; and 
 he was terribly thin. Now and again, 
 he gave a nasty hollow cough. 
 
 The man stood, with a long stick 
 in his hand, talking and explaining. 
 The visitors to the fair stared round- 
 eyed at the great beast that lay there 
 so quietly. Sick and feeble as he was, 
 they could see, nevertheless, that he 
 was the lion, the king of beasts, and 
 they felt cold in their backs at the 
 thought that he might break loose. 
 But, when he did not make a single 
 movement, one of the spectators said, 
 at last: 
 
 "I believe he's dead!" 
 
 Then the showman pushed his long 
 stick through the bars and poked the 
 lion with it. The lion slowly turned 
 his head and looked at him, but gave 
 no further sign of life. Then the man 
 
 140
 
 MANY YEARS AFTER 
 
 poked him again and again and, at 
 last, the lion sprang up and gave 
 such a roar that the tent shook with 
 it and the people fell back in affright. 
 
 "He ate his former owner," said the 
 man. "I bought him of the widow. 
 He is terribly fierce and intractable. 
 He's dreaming of his native land, 
 you see, where he used to hunt in the 
 wild forest and all the animals hon- 
 oured and feared him. But now you 
 must go, please, so that others can 
 come and see the most extraordinary 
 sight ever exhibited in this village. 
 Walk up, ladies and gentlemen ! Only 
 twopence each! The king of the for- 
 est, the terrible lion!" 
 
 And so it went on until late that 
 
 evening. Not until the market-place 
 
 was empty and there were no visitors 
 
 left to listen to him did the man shut 
 
 141
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 up the tent, after counting the day's 
 takings. 
 
 "This has been a bad day," he said 
 and gave an angry look at the lion. 
 "You haven't really earned your sup- 
 per!" 
 
 He flung a small piece of half- 
 rotten meat into the cage. Then he 
 shut the door and locked it and went 
 to the inn, where he sat and drank 
 and caroused till the early morning. 
 
 The lion did not touch the putrid 
 meat. With his head on his paws, he 
 lay staring at a little train-oil lamp 
 that hung in the tent and flickered 
 feebly. Suddenly, he heard a sound 
 and raised his head and looked about 
 him. 
 
 "Can't I have peace even at night?" 
 he said. 
 
 "It's only I," replied a squeaky lit- 
 
 142
 
 MANY YEARS AFTER 
 
 tie voice. "I have been locked in by 
 accident. I want to get out! I want 
 to get out! My mistress is dying of 
 fright for me." 
 
 It was a tiny little dog, with a collar 
 and bells round his neck and an em- 
 broidered rug on his back. He tripped 
 to and fro, whined and cried and 
 scratched at the door, but no one 
 heard him. All was silent in the mar- 
 ket-place outside. 
 
 "Well, I never!" said the lion. 
 "You're the dog; I can see that. 
 Gracious me, what a sight they've 
 made of you!" 
 
 "I want to get out! I want to get 
 out!" whined the dog. 
 
 The lion had laid his head on his 
 paws again and looked at the dog. 
 
 "What's the use of whimpering like 
 that?" he asked. "No one's hurting 
 
 143
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 you. I couldn't eat you if I wanted 
 to. The iron bars are strong, believe 
 me. I used to shake them at first. I 
 have to travel in my cage from place 
 to place and let people look at me for 
 money, submit to their scorn and teas- 
 ing and roar when I am told to, so 
 that they may shudder, while feeling 
 quite safe from my teeth." 
 
 "Let me out!" cried the dog. 
 
 "I can't," replied the lion. "But I 
 am not so contemptible as you. I am 
 here against my will, caught in a 
 trap. You voluntarily entered Two- 
 Legs' service, betrayed your fellows 
 and helped him against them." 
 
 "I don't know what you're referring 
 to," said the dog. "I know no one 
 called Two-Legs. I am in service 
 with human beings. My mistress is 
 a great baroness and she will die of 
 
 144
 
 MANY YEARS AFTER 
 
 fright if I don't come home to her 
 soon." 
 
 "Just so," said the lion. "Human 
 beings, that's what Two-Legs' con- 
 founded descendants call themselves. 
 They have subdued the whole earth. 
 There is hardly a place left where an 
 honest lion can go hunting in royal 
 style. I know the whole story: it has 
 been handed down in my house from 
 father to son. I heard it all, the night 
 before I was captured, in the desert 
 to which the men had driven us: how 
 Two-Legs and his wife came naked 
 and unarmed to the forest; how my 
 ancestor protected them; how they 
 gradually outwitted all the animals: 
 you alone entered their service of your 
 own free will. The others they caught 
 and tamed and dulled their senses 
 until they no longer knew how to lead 
 
 145
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 the lives of free animals and resigned 
 themselves to slavery. Finally, Two- 
 Legs killed my ancestor with his 
 spear: yes, yes, I know the whole 
 shameful story." 
 
 "I don't," said the dog. "And I 
 don't mind if I never know it. I only 
 know that I have a cosy little basket 
 at home with my mistress and that 
 she pets and kisses me and gives me 
 the loveliest food. I want to get out! 
 I want to go home!" 
 
 The lion made no reply, but thought 
 to himself: 
 
 "When I lie here in my cage, where 
 I shall soon die of sorrow and cough- 
 ing, it is a comfort to me to see how 
 wretched Two - Legs' descendants 
 have grown. For he was lithe and 
 slender and fair to look upon : he was 
 an animal! But these people here! 
 
 146
 
 MANY YEARS AFTER 
 
 One can hardly see a morsel of their 
 bodies, they are so wrapped up. Two- 
 Legs could bound through the forest 
 and climb trees : these people here can 
 scarcely stir hand or foot. He was a 
 fighter: and it's really amusing to 
 watch the terror in these fellows' eyes 
 when I get up and move to the bars 
 or when I roar. They shake like 
 aspen-leaves, though they know that 
 I am only a wretched prisoner." 
 
 "I want to get out, I want to go 
 home!" whined the dog. 
 
 The lion rose and went to the bars 
 of his cage. He lashed his lean flanks 
 with his tail and opened his jaws so 
 that his terrible teeth gleamed. The 
 little dog trembled with fear before 
 his yellow eyes. 
 
 "And you!" said the lion. "Ha, ha, 
 ha! It's better to be a captive lion in 
 
 147
 
 TWO-LEGS 
 
 a cage than a miserable little lap-dog, 
 with bells and a rug!" 
 
 He gave such a roar that all the peo- 
 ple in the village started up in their 
 beds. Then he lay down at the farther 
 end of the cage, turned on one side 
 and slept. 
 
 The little dog shivered and whined 
 until some one came and let him out. 
 
 THE END 
 
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